


Cast Me Not Away

by enigmaticblue



Series: Cast Me Not Away [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 138,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike leaves after "Dead Things," wanting nothing more than to get Buffy out of his head. Wesley's still an independent contractor after the events of "Loyalty." And the Slayer's still living in the land of denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought that Buffy got off way too lightly for the beating she gave Spike in "Dead Things." And we all know how wonderful S4 of Ats was. So this is my version of things. In my universe, Spike left Sunnydale, and there was never a plot to get Cordy to become some sort of vessel for Jasmine. She stops Connor from sending Angel to the bottom of the ocean, and they both admit to loving one another. And, because no one can have a perfect moment of happiness with a teenager running around the house, Angel doesn't lose his soul when he and Cordy finally consummate the relationship. Unfortunately, this leaves poor Wes still out in the cold because Angel can hold a grudge like no other.

**Prologue**

 

Dawn entered the crypt as quietly as she could. She hadn’t seen Spike in forever, but she wanted to let him know that Buffy’s birthday party was coming up. He probably would appreciate the warning and the knowledge.

 

It was just after school, so the sun was still up, and she figured he’d be around. The upper level was empty however, and when she called his name there was no answer. Hesitantly, Dawn set her backpack down on his chair and headed towards the ladder. There had been a couple of embarrassing moments the previous summer when she’d walked in on him while he was slightly less than dressed. Though, to be honest, Dawn probably hadn’t minded nearly as much as Spike had.

 

She descended the ladder slowly, ready to leave quickly if he was indisposed. All she could see in the dim candlelight was a half-full bag on his bed, surrounded by odds and ends of clothes and books.

 

Dawn knew that she hadn’t actually been there, but she remembered this scene like something out of a bad dream. The huge party downstairs, Dawn trying to make herself scarce, but wanting to hang with an older sister she hadn’t seen in months, coming out into the hallway only to hear Willow and her mom shouting. And Buffy had been standing there with her suitcase half-packed, wanting to take off yet again. Dawn had never quite forgiven her sister for leaving like that.

 

She wasn’t sure she would be able to forgive Spike for leaving either.

 

“Why?” It was the only question she could think of to ask, and she knew he was there, even if he hadn’t made a sound.

 

He stepped half-way into the light then, and the candles only partially illuminated his face. She could see that his face was bruised, but not how badly. “Gotta go, Bit. It’s time.”

 

“Time?” she demanded. “Why now, Spike? Were you even going to let us know?”

 

“Who would care?” It was a question that was only partially rhetorical, and Dawn marveled at the distance that had grown up between them in the last months. Sometimes she wondered if it would have been better if Buffy had stayed dead. Bringing her back seemed to have created more problems than it solved.

 

“I would,” she protested. Dawn strode forward and grabbed his arm, as though to physically prevent his leaving. “Spike, you promised me!”

 

He turned his face away from her, and it was then that Dawn could see the full extent of the damage. She let out an involuntary gasp. The last time he’d been this badly injured was after Glory had tortured him, and he’d been restrained. She couldn’t think of a thing on earth that could hurt him that badly and then let him walk away.

 

Unless he let them hurt him, and they—

 

“Buffy.” It was a statement, not a question, as Dawn remembered how banged up her sister’s knuckles had been the morning after she’d tried to turn herself into the police. As the Slayer, she would have had to give someone quite a beating for it to be that obvious.

 

Besides, Buffy was about the only person Spike would let hurt him like that.

 

He turned his back to her, and continued stuffing clothes and assorted items into the suitcase. “Doesn’t matter,” he asserted.

 

Dawn stood, frozen, watching yet another person she loved walk out of her life. This time because of her sister. Yeah, she was definitely beginning to think it might have been better if Buffy had stayed dead. Though the thought brought on the guilt, Dawn could deal with dead-Buffy. It was this half-alive version that made her crazy. “It matters to me.”

 

She heard him sigh, and not for the first time wondered at the humanity of him. Sure, he was a vampire, but sometimes it was so hard to tell… “If I stay, one of us will kill the other.” He turned and faced her fully for the first time, and Dawn could see his face clearly. He had been badly hurt, and all the anger she felt at him for leaving drained away.

 

Dawn wrapped her arms around his waist. “I hate this.”

 

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then he returned her embrace. “’m sorry, Dawn.” Spike pulled back from her abruptly, feeling as though he might cry at any moment, and hating himself for it. He was the Big Bad. And even if he wasn’t the Big Bad now, he’d get it back. He’d get it back, and—

 

Looking into a girl’s eyes, he knew he wouldn’t do anything except stay away. It was all he could do for her. “Will you come back?”

 

“I dunno,” he replied. “Maybe.”

 

“When?”

 

How to put a timeline on love? Or, in his case, on getting over love? How long would it take to forget the Slayer? “I dunno. When I’m over her.”

 

Dawn nodded, hiding her own tears. It was their way to be strong for each other. It was their pact from last summer, that if neither broke, then the other one could stay strong as well. “Promise you’ll write me.”

 

“Nibblet—”

 

“Promise.” And because he was already breaking one promise he’d made, Spike agreed.

 

There was an awkward silence, neither of them really wanting to say good-bye, neither knowing what to say at all. Suddenly, Spike stripped off his duster and shoved it into Dawn’s arms. “Here.”

 

She stared at him, not comprehending his actions. “You keep it,” he said firmly, though still eyeing the coat as if he might take it back at any moment. “Till I come back for it, I mean. ‘s not a gift, it’s a loan, yeah?”

 

It was a promise that meant something. It meant that he would come back, that he wouldn’t forget, that she would have a piece of him to hang onto in the weeks or months or years that it would take for him to make his way back to her. He might as well have handed her a limb and told her he’d be back for it. “Do you want me to tell—do you want me to tell her anything?”

 

There was a terrible moment of indecision as Spike tried to decide whether or not to cut the umbilical cord once and for all or if he should leave some small thread of hope alive. “Only if she asks.”

 

Dawn nodded, her arms full of his leather duster, his scent filling her nose, her mouth—She flung it down on the bed, wrapped herself around him for one last farewell, and then grabbed the coat and ran. Up the ladder, grabbing her pack, and out into the lengthening shadows. She hardly dared hope she would see him again.

 

And below, Spike finished packing.

 

**Part I: Reasons**

**“I’m not a perfect person/There are many things I wish I didn’t do/but I continue learning/ I never meant to do those things to you/and so I have to say before I go/that I just want you to know/I’ve found a reason for me/to change who I used to be/A reason to start over new/ and the reason is you/I’m sorry that I hurt you/It’s something I must live with everyday/ and all the pain I put you through/I wish that I could take it all away/and be the one who catches all your tears…I’ve found a reason for me/to change who I used to be/a reason to start over new/and the reason is you/I’ve found a reason to show/a side of me you didn’t know/A reason for all that I do/and the reason is you.” ~Hoobastank, “The Reason”**

**Chapter 1: August 2002**

 

Nika took the urn the funeral home attendant handed her, holding it tightly to her breast. They had held the memorial service the day before, her husband’s brothers in arms coming in droves to offer their condolences. She knew that none of them quite understood why Danny had asked to be cremated. She’d explained that it was traditional in his family. The explanation had seemed to suffice.

 

It was odd, she thought, that the urn was so small, only a little bigger than a football. Danny had been a big man, broad-chested and well muscled. He had made her feel safe as no one ever had before.

 

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and headed out to her car. Today, there was no one. Her friends had been kind, but awkward. His friends and their wives had seemed not to know what to say. They had liked him, but they had never been close. She and Daniel had been a world unto themselves, and now half her world was gone.

 

Nika drove home in a daze, not quite seeing the road or the signs, managing it on autopilot, the urn on the passenger seat next to her. She pulled up in front of the house they had bought not a year previously, took the urn inside with her. She sat on the bed in a daze.

 

There seemed to be no reason to move, to speak, to do anything at all. No reason to go on.

 

Daniel had made her swear to him, so long ago now, that if anything ever happened to him, she would go on living. “It’s a dangerous profession,” he warned. “If something happens, you have to live. Promise me you’ll go on living.”

 

Nika had laughed lightly, as only a girl of nineteen could. She had believed the both of them immortal, invincible, never mind that her life had been marked by death. She had believed Danny to be immortal at least, this strong man of hers that had such a gentle touch. There had been loss before, yes, but she had not understood what this kind of loss would bring to her soul.

 

She could not kill herself, not and keep her promise, but she could put herself in a position to not live much longer. As a policeman’s wife, as the wife of one who was not-quite-human, she knew of the dark places in the city, places you could go if you had a death wish.

 

Nika rose and washed her face, dressed, made sure she looked an appealing morsel, despite the marks of grief that could not be washed away. Pressing her lips to her fingertips and her fingers to the urn, she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I will be with you soon, my love.”

 

~~~~~

 

There was a place that the more unsavory sort went, a place that most humans avoided if they wanted to stay alive. The people at the bottom, those were the ones who had the easiest time believing that there were things that went bump in the night. Too many of them had seen friends and loved ones swallowed by the darkness to not believe.

 

Now, Nika was planning on diving into the darkness headfirst.

 

She ordered a drink and sat down in a secluded corner. Getting eaten needed to be done carefully, she thought, as she had no desire to be turned. She wanted to find someone who might be persuaded by the novelty of a willing human meal to do things her way.

 

After an hour or so, Nika spotted the one she wanted. He was a lean, blond man, the platinum blond of a bottle rather than nature. More average height than tall, he was as far removed from her Daniel as it was possible to be, which suited her just fine. Nika had no desire for her last sight to be of a demon that reminded her of Danny.

 

What decided her was the way he drank, grimly, and with purpose, as though he were trying to wash something away with a river of whiskey. That, and the way he limped as he made his way to the bar when the wait-demon wouldn’t serve him. His right leg was obviously not working very well, and as he moved, Nika could tell he had a similar problem with his right arm. She hadn’t known of anything that could cause such an injury in a vampire, but apparently something had.

 

And he was a vampire. The paleness of his skin, the blue of his veins, the lack of a pulse jumping in the hollow of his throat—Daniel had taught her what to look for long ago. Had taught her that, and had told her that she was to cremate his body, no matter the cause of death. “I’ll not have you looking on at me as a demon. It’s the way my family has always done it, to ensure our passage on to the next life. It’s not a tradition I would leave behind.”

 

Nika had left instructions for her own funeral, that she was to be cremated as well. Even if the creature tried to turn her, it would not work. She hoped. She hoped that the possibility of a meal for an injured vampire, unable to hunt, would be enough to convince him to simply drain her and leave the body.

 

Shaking off her thoughts and draining the glass, summoning up the last dregs of courage, Nika made her way over to the vampire’s table. She sat down in front of him boldly, without asking permission or waiting for an invitation.

 

His response was surly, as she might have expected from the look of him. He looked like a tough the cops would instinctively hassle. “Drinkin’ alone tonight, ducks.”

 

“I have a proposition for you,” Nika replied, not knowing where her own boldness was coming from. Perhaps it was simply desperation to be done. Some way of making sure she died, without having to commit the deed herself. Perhaps it was because she wanted to go out the way her husband had. Her parents had. Her sister had. It was the last way she might be close to them.

 

“Not interested.”

 

She pretended not to hear him. “I’m offering you a meal.”

 

He laughed. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

 

“Drink from me.”

 

That got his attention. His head shot up, and he regarded her with the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. “What?”

 

Nika leaned in closer, lowering her voice so that she wouldn’t be heard across the din. “I want you to drink from me. Kill me. Not turn me.”

 

“Novel way to commit suicide,” he commented, interest creeping into his voice, even though his face was bland.

 

Her gray eyes became steel. “Not your business.”

 

“No,” he agreed. He looked at her for a long moment, and seemed to come to a decision within himself, completely separate from her request and desire. “Where? Out back?”

 

Nika thought of dying in an alley, and shook her head. Maybe it was vain or stupid. Maybe she just didn’t want to risk anyone stopping them. Maybe because it had always been her secret desire to die an old woman, happy and content, in her own bed. One out of three didn’t seem too bad at the moment. “My house. I have a place. It’s not far.”

 

“You’ll have to invite me in, an’ all,” he reminded her, and she shrugged.

 

“It won’t matter.” It did matter, some small voice inside her insisted. All of it mattered. She had promised Danny, promised to live and promised never to invite a vampire inside the house. Tonight, she was going to break both of those promises.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike hadn’t known quite what to do when the woman came to him and asked him to kill her. It had been two months since he’d gotten the chip out, and he could have been hunting his meals for at least the last couple weeks. Instead, he’d told himself that he needed time, needed to make sure he could chase a human down.

 

He promised himself that he would go back to being the Big Bad just as soon as he had healed.

 

It had taken him a few weeks to find a doctor who would remove the chip. Funny, but he had been so focused on Sunnydale and the Initiative, and then so intent upon the Slayer, Spike had never even considered going out of town to find help. L.A. offered quite a bit more in the way of demon doctors, and it hadn’t taken too long to find someone who would help. Even better, the man had been so fascinated by the modification chip, he’d taken that as half his payment.

 

So Spike had paid up front and woken to find the doctor gone and half his limbs not working.

 

He’d managed to lurch out of the makeshift operating room and hole up in a little flop house he’d found. To his credit, the doctor had warned him of the possible side effects of such an operation, and Spike had stocked up on fresh blood beforehand. Good thing too, because it was two weeks before he could even manage to leave the room again.

 

Spike knew his leg was getting better. It was a rather slow process, and the arm came back first, but the limp wasn’t quite as bad now. At least, that’s what he told himself.

 

He could do denial as well as the next person. He’d deluded himself about Buffy’s feelings for a long time. He might have continued, except for that night in the alley. It wasn’t even her words, or the bruises that she’d left. All of that had been done before, said before, though not in quite the same language. No, it had been her back as she walked away. Left him for the sun, knowing he might not be able to make it back to his crypt. That was what had convinced him to leave. One of them was going to kill the other.

 

So he deluded himself into thinking that he could be the Big Bad again, that he would heal and hunt again, that nothing had changed. Spike didn’t question his reluctance to play up his injury to get women fawning over him. He knew how to milk such things, and chose not to. Instead, he waited until he could run and jump with the best of them, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his brain that said he might never be able to again.

 

That was why he said yes when the woman came to him with her request. Her boldness intrigued him, and her death wish piqued his curiosity, but mostly Spike realized that if he refused to kill her, he would have to admit that something fundamental had changed within him. Refusing a human’s willing offer would be like a starving man refusing a five-course meal.

 

There would be no more denial after that.

 

Therefore, he agreed to go with her to her house, finishing his drink with one swig and following her out to her car. She drove a sensible old four-door sedan, of indiscriminate make and model. Spike found himself staring at her as she drove them back to her house, trying to decipher what kind of woman it was who would offer herself up to a vampire. Requests for turning weren’t so unusual, but she had been very emphatic about the staying dead part.

 

She was perhaps in her mid- to late twenties, and her brown hair was pulled back in a sensible braid. A wide mouth formed a slash across her face, and a straight nose did nothing for her features. The only thing that might have been pretty were her eyes, which were large, gray, and framed with thick dark lashes. Even so, she was not pretty or beautiful, though some might call her handsome. There was a strength in her face, in her eyes, that might draw people to her. But the strength she had was gone, broken by something or someone, and Spike finally broke the silence.

 

“Why d’you want to go out this way?”

 

She glanced over at him but didn’t answer right away. “Why did you say yes?” she finally replied, a question for a question.

 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a question Spike had to think too hard about. “I’m a vampire, luv. We eat people. ‘s the way of things.”

 

The silence that greeted his reply just about convinced him that he wasn’t going to get an answer. He would kill her without ever knowing what led to her seeking him out. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

 

It was a good enough response, and one Spike could understand. There were plenty of days when he wasn’t sure he wanted to be here anymore either. Not that he was ready to meet the sunrise yet, but he had no lust for unlife, not as he once did. “I get that.”

 

After a more comfortable silence, the woman said, “I’m Nika.”

 

“Spike.”

 

“What happened to you?”

 

Spike debated on what to tell her, whether it mattered. If he was going to kill her anyway, he didn’t suppose it mattered at all, so he said, “I had somethin’ wrong with my brain, an’ when I went in to get it fixed, this is what happened. ‘s better now,” he added, as an afterthought.

 

“There are exercises you can do to help,” Nika offered cautiously.

 

He stared at her with renewed interest. “You a doctor, then?”

 

“A midwife. I’ve done some work with people who’ve—had accidents,” she finished, and then fell silent.

 

The words seemed heavy to both of them, as though speaking were a hardship. Though, if they had known one another, they would have known that words should have fallen easily, like leaves in the fall. The rhythm of their conversation was one of uneasy ebb and flow, so that silence felt better.

 

Nika finally pulled up in front of a small house that had the looks of being lovingly cared for in spite of its size. Except for that, for the tidy yard and neatly painted trim and shutters, there was nothing to recommend it. He followed her out of the car, to the porch, and she unlocked the door, pausing just inside.

 

She looked back at him, and for an instant Spike was certain that she was going to change her mind. That she would leave him on the outside and shut the door in his face. She did neither of these things.

 

“Come in, Spike.”

 

They were echoes of another woman’s words, in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Sometimes, at night, Spike would wonder if it might not have been better if Buffy had been left in her coffin. A dead Buffy had been a burden, like an albatross around his neck, weighing him down with guilt, but he’d had a family of sorts. A live Buffy had cut him off from everything he’d begun to value. He shoved the thought aside with a feeling close to remorse.

 

Spike stepped across the threshold, looking around. He spotted a picture on the wall of a tall, black-haired man in a police uniform, standing next to a young Nika. “He’s gone.” It was a statement of fact, and there was no condemnation in his tone. It hadn’t been so long ago that only a promise to a dead woman had kept him alive, in a manner of speaking. Spike might have killed himself otherwise. “How long?”

 

“A week.” There was a pause. “They say someone cut his throat, but I saw the wound when I identified the body.” The morgue attendant had not argued with her request. She gathered they saw varying strange reactions to grief. “It wasn’t a knife.”

 

Spike understood what she wasn’t saying, and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

 

Nika had no idea why this vampire’s words would mean so much more than any other’s, including the other officers and their wives and husbands who had come to the memorial service. Perhaps they had rung false because their loved ones were still standing there beside them, because part of their being sorry was also relief that it wasn’t their spouse who was gone. The vampire’s expressive eyes and face told her he knew grief intimately, even though it should have been impossible. “Thank you.”

 

Spike suddenly wanted to get down to business. Much longer in this woman’s company and he wouldn’t be able to kill her. He would bite and think of another he’d so recently seen lifeless. “Where do you want to do this?” he asked for the second time that night.

 

“In the bedroom,” she finally said. “You can leave me there—after.”

 

“After,” he agreed, following her as she headed that way.

 

The two of them sat down on the edge of her bed, the springs of the old mattress squeaking under their combined weight. Nika had to choke back tears, thinking that it had squeaked every night since she and Danny had married, and it never would again. It would have been ten years soon.

 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Spike confessed suddenly into the silence of the room. “That thing with my brain? Was a chip, didn’t let me hurt people. You’ll be my first in a long time.”

 

Neither missed the double entendre, though they didn’t say anything. It seemed too solemn an occasion for dirty jokes. “Can you now?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Got it removed. That’s what happened to m’leg.” Spike had checked as soon as possible after the surgery. He was inclined to believe it had happened, due to the extent of the damage, but he’d finally gone out and deliberately stepped on someone’s toes as he passed them in the street. He’d told himself it was the only thing he could really do.

 

“Oh. Will it hurt much?” she asked, and there was a thread of fear in her voice that hadn’t revealed itself until then.

 

Spike couldn’t lie to her; he didn’t have the heart. “Some. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

 

Nika hesitated, and then brushed back her braid, exposing a bare neck, her creamy skin an open invitation. “Remember, no turning.”

 

“Right.” Still Spike hesitated, unsure of himself, of what he wanted, until he could wait no longer. It was now or never, and so it had to be now.

 

For the first time in years, Spike bit into the warm, living neck of a human, and began to drink. Neither was ever certain who changed their mind first, but Nika’s eyes suddenly shot open and she began to struggle, even as Spike made up his mind to withdraw. He had already taken enough to cause her to lose consciousness, though not enough to kill her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as she fainted. He was never sure what he was apologizing for: for not being able to kill her, or for biting her in the first place.

 

~~~~~

 

Nika woke to find a pair of worried blue eyes regarding her intently. “What—” She couldn’t quite remember what had happened. Her head was pounding, there was a burning sensation in her neck, and she didn’t recognize the man sitting next to her.

 

“’m sorry,” he said, and with his words, her memories rushed back. He was a vampire; she’d asked him to kill her.

 

She wasn’t dead.

 

“What happened?” At his frown, she continued, “Why did you stop?”

 

Spike shook his head. “You started to struggle. I figured you changed your mind.”

 

“But why would you stop?” Nika insisted. She had changed her mind. The darkness had begun to cloud her vision, and suddenly keeping a promise to a dead man seemed more important than ending the pain. The curious thing was that the vampire hadn’t finished the job.

 

“Why did you change your mind?” Spike refused to look away from her eyes, and they engaged in a staring contest. Nika was the one who broke first.

 

“I’ll tell you, if you tell me why you didn’t kill me.” At his nod, she said, “I promised Danny I would keep living if—if anything ever happened to him. I just—I thought I wanted—” Tears choked her, and Nika fell silent, unable to say anything else.

 

Spike was quiet. He had been there. He’d been inches away from greeting the sunrise after Buffy had died. It was Dawn who had saved him. She’d needed him. “There was a girl,” he confessed. Nika lay on the bed still, looking up at him with her solemn eyes and pale face. “She said if I ever got the chip out, I’d start killin’ people again. Said I was a serial killer in prison. I didn’t want her to be right.”

 

Their misery seemed to thrum between them, bonding them in an unlikely sort of relationship. It was not a bond of affection or desire, but rather of an uncomfortable sort of knowing. They knew pain. That was all. “What happened to her?” Nika whispered, suddenly needing to know.

 

“She kicked me to curb.” Spike stood suddenly. “I should go. You look alright. Bit pale, but that’ll pass quick enough.”

 

Nika looked at the clock. It was 6 am, and the sun was rising. “You could stay here.” At the vampire’s incredulous look, she hastened to explain, “The basement is almost finished. We—we were going to rent it out once it was done. But there’s a bed down there.”

 

“We’re not gonna be friends, ducks,” Spike said, almost snarling, looking suddenly fierce. “Don’t need ‘em, an’ I don’t want ‘em.”

 

Nika laughed hollowly. “Danny was my best friend. He was my world. I don’t have any desire to try and replace him. Ever.”

 

They stared at each other, again at an impasse. “Then what?” Spike finally asked.

 

“I suppose misery loves company,” she replied, trying to smile and not making it. “I don’t know who’s misery, but the other can be company.”

 

Spike finally nodded, looking away from her and at the steadily lightening curtains. “Alright then.” His shoulders slumped, and he reached out a hand to help Nika up.

 

Shakily, she led the way to the basement and showed him the bed. “Stay however long you want,” Nika said awkwardly. “I mean, it’s—you have an invitation now, so it doesn’t matter.”

 

“It matters,” he replied. “Won’t stay where ‘m not wanted.” They did not discuss whether or not she really wanted him there. They didn’t discuss the fact that they had saved one another. It was enough that Spike had a safe place to kip and that the house was not empty.

 

~~~~~

Buffy stared at Richard, not quite comprehending what he was saying. “Look, Buffy, I’m really sorry.” His nice, normal, sincere face was regarding her with nothing but concern. “I just don’t think this is going to work out. I mean, I really like you, but it’s pretty obvious I’m not the guy you want.”

 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, dazed. “I thought everything was going okay.” It always ended this way, she was thinking. She thought everything was going fine, but somehow it wasn’t. Buffy had missed all the warning signals. Again.

 

Richard shook his head, feeling bad about ending it, but still firm in his decision. “You’re not around. I mean, I know there’s weird stuff in this town, and you—do things, and all, but you don’t really even seem all that interested in me. Half the time it feels like you’re off in your own world. I’m sorry, Buffy. I just can’t do this. I think maybe we need different things in a relationship.”

 

She wanted to scream, “Yeah, like I need a guy not to leave!” She didn’t. Buffy just nodded numbly and watched as Richard hurried away, not wanting to stay any longer than he had to. Six months. Six months down the drain. She’d finally thought she was putting her life back together, doing the right thing.

 

All she saw was another man’s back.


	2. August 2005

Dawn compared the address on the house in front of her to the return address on a battered envelope. She and Spike had been writing back and forth for a while now, but she still wasn’t completely sure she knew where he was living, or what his situation was. His letters were full of witticisms, odd stories about demons he’d killed, and constant encouragements to do her homework and listen to her sister.

 

There had been no mention made of the fact that he was apparently living in a house, however, even though he certainly wasn’t living in a crypt, judging by the presence of an actual address. Nor had there been any mention that he’d known and understood that she was coming to UCLA and wanted to visit him. Dawn had written three weeks previously to let him know when she’d be in town, but he hadn’t responded to her obvious fishing for an invitation.

 

“I don’t care,” Dawn muttered rebelliously, never mind that she’d been a near-model student and sister for the past three years. “I want to see him, and I don’t care if he doesn’t want to see me.”

 

That wasn’t quite true, of course, but she had long decided that you had to do what you really wanted to do or face disappointment. She wanted to see Spike, and she might be waiting until Hell froze over before he asked her to visit.

 

She’d left Sunnydale the day before, her old truck packed to the gills with the stuff she’d need for a year away from home. Dawn hadn’t bothered telling Buffy that she had no plans on coming back to stay. She and her sister were doing better, but closeness was still something they lacked.

 

Dawn had done everything she could in the last three years to prove herself an adult. She’d gotten a job, saved for a beater of an old truck that ran like a dream, got good grades. All the while she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t stay in Sunnydale after graduation. She would go to a good college, and get an apartment, and never return. Except for very short visits.

 

The combination of a scholarship and Spike’s presence made UCLA the obvious choice, and that was where she found herself now. Dawn remembered Buffy’s eyes as she’d left town, worried and sad all at once, but also proud. Telling her to call as soon as she got in, and that she was to go straight to Angel’s. The plan was to spend the night there and then let Angel’s friends move her into the dorms the next morning.

 

Dawn had liked his friends. Fred had been sweet and funny and reminded her of Willow a little. Gunn was big and bluff, shaking her hand and calling her “girl,” his manner welcoming. Even Cordelia was friendlier than she remembered. The ex-cheerleader had given her a warm hug, and had even been a huge help moving in, giving her decorating tips for a room that needed all the help it could get. Only Angel had not been a surprise; he was his usual brooding self, only a trifle lighter-spirited.

 

Of all of them, it had been Connor who had held her interest the most, however. He had asked for her phone number before he left, and Dawn had given it to him. She smiled, thinking of Angel’s son with his bright blue eyes and his almost shy smile, who had been endearingly awkward around her.

 

But it was Spike that she really wanted to see. Letters scattered out over the last three years hardly made up for all the time spent apart. It was his absence that let Dawn know how important he really was. Even when Buffy had forbidden each of them from seeking the other out, he had been there, in the background. Words on paper did not fill in the scent of cigarettes and leather, the sight of piercing blue eyes, the harsh sigh of breath when he was truly exasperated. She had missed him.

 

This tiny, well-kept house that she was standing in front of hardly seemed the kind of place that Spike would be found, but it was her only lead. Taking a deep breath, Dawn knocked on the door, a little surprised to have it open and reveal a woman on the other side. “Um, hi,” she began awkwardly. “Do you—I mean, I’m looking for Spike. Is this—”

 

The woman smiled warmly, opening the door a little wider. “You must be Dawn,” she said, her voice soft with a lilting accent that Dawn couldn’t quite place. “He and Wesley are out just now. You can wait for him if you like.”

 

The girl paused and then entered the house. “Spike knew I was coming?”

 

There was laughter at Dawn’s slightly befuddled question, though the girl didn’t get the sense that the woman was laughing at her. “Let me guess. Spike didn’t tell you anything, such as the fact that he was living in my basement.” Her face amused, she held out a hand. “My name is Nika Owen.”

 

Dawn shook hands reflexively. “It’s nice to meet you. Spike lives in your basement?”

 

“Come into the kitchen. I’ll make tea, and we can talk.” Nika said this last in a conspiratorial way that told Dawn she was finally going to get the dirt on Spike. “Spike said you were starting school this month at UCLA, and you had a scholarship. He’s very proud of you.”

“He is?” Dawn asked, suddenly feeling a warm glow begin. Spike hadn’t just written to her because he’d promised and it was a duty. He cared. He’d told his—What was Nika to him?

 

Nika smiled. “Of course. He’s been talking of nothing else since he got your letter. I’m sure if he had known you would be here tonight, he would not have gone out with Wesley. But they had a job come up, and it was necessary for both of them to go.”

 

“Wesley?” Dawn asked, confused about this new name.

 

Nika nodded. “He’s an independent contractor who does different things dealing with demons and such. Sometimes he asks Spike for extra help.” Looking amused again, and setting a cup of tea down in front of Dawn, she said, “So, Spike told you all about the demons he fought and said not a word about anything else.”

 

“Well, he did tell me to be good and listen to my sister,” Dawn said, beginning to see the humor in it. “It’s probably a good thing he gave me a return address, otherwise I’d never have known where to find him.”

 

Nika shrugged. “I’m glad he did as well. Spike’s always a bit happier when he gets a note from you.”

 

It was yet another thing that Dawn hadn’t known about him. She made him happy, even over the distance. “Is he doing okay?”

 

There was a faraway look in the other woman’s face as she replied. “Okay, yes. As okay as he can be, I think.” She smiled slightly. “He wouldn’t have told you how we met. Would you like to know?”

 

Somehow, Dawn sensed that this was a more important question than did she want to hear a story. It had something to do with Spike and why he was there. “Yeah, I would.”

 

Nika told her, and Dawn began to understand a little of what his life had been here in L.A. “He doesn’t have the chip anymore,” she stated flatly.

 

“Yes. You seem surprised that I’d still allow him to live here, but I didn’t know him with it in.” Nika considered the girl’s surprised face for a long moment. “We saved each other that night, I think. He left the next day, without telling me, but he was back a few days later. We drank together and shared stories about the people we loved. It helped a little. Never enough though.”

 

Dawn nodded slowly. No, it was never enough. Even if sharing helped to halve the grief, she had discovered that you could cut something in half an infinite number of times, but it would still be there. It might get continuously smaller, but there was a piece that would always remain. “Are you and Spike…” she trailed off, realizing too late that it was none of her business.

 

“No.” Nika shook her head. “No, we’re friends and roommates. That’s all. We love each other, but it’s not the kind you need to build anything lasting on.”

 

There was a sound from the front of the house, and Nika looked up. “That’s Spike and Wesley.” She smiled, and Dawn thought there was more there than simply happiness that her friends were home.

 

“Nika? We’re celebratin’ tonight. Got the bugger an’ not a scratch on us.” Spike’s voice floated through the living room into the kitchen easily, and another British voice soon followed.

 

“It was quite something. I’m not sure either of us would have made it had the fight continued much longer.” The accent was stuffier, and the second voice was vaguely familiar.

 

Dawn watched as Spike appeared in the kitchen moments later, looking especially pleased with himself. She was actually more surprised to see the man behind Spike, although she couldn’t quite place the familiar face. “Do you think—” Spike’s question died in his throat as he saw Dawn seated at the kitchen table. “Dawn? Nibblet?”

Dawn stood. “Hey, Spike.” There was a moment of indecision, and then she went to wrap her arms around his waist. “Missed you.”

 

“Missed you too, Sweet Bit,” he replied. Then he pulled back. “School start already? Didn’t think you were in ‘til next week.”

 

She shrugged. “The dorms opened yesterday. I told Buffy I needed to come early so I could settle in and get my books.”

 

A strained silence fell, and Dawn winced, realizing that she’d used the B-word. “Anyway…”

 

“’s alright,” Spike said, smiling at her, and almost managing to look unconcerned. “Dawn, you know Wesley, yeah?”

 

Dawn looked at the other man and suddenly realized why he looked familiar. She had only met Buffy’s sometime-Watcher once or twice, when her sister had been forced to drag her along to the school library. She remembered him as being stuffy and full of himself, but the man in the doorway was anything but. There was more confidence in the set of his shoulders, and the three piece suit and tie were missing. His face was stubbled and hard looking, and Dawn realized with a start that he was actually pretty hot. Too old for her, of course, but that didn’t mean she was blind.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hello, Dawn,” he replied, some of the stiffness she remembered back in his tone. “You’ve grown up quite a bit since the last time I saw you.”

The girl could see in his eyes that he was vaguely impressed, much as she was with the changes he’d gone through. It was the sort of admiration you could have for an acquaintance you hadn’t seen for a while, but not have it mean much more than that. “You too,” she replied cheekily.

 

It startled a smile out of Wesley and warmed his eyes, which had been almost icy. “Spike has been talking non-stop about your acceptance into university. Congratulations.”

 

“Thanks.” Dawn noticed that there was a much more relaxed atmosphere in the room now that everyone had met and no one had seemed to take an instant disliking to each other.

 

Nika cleared her throat. “Spike, why don’t you show Dawn downstairs. I’m sure she’d like to spend some time with you.”

 

Dawn watched as her eyes met Wesley’s, and thought there were two other people who might want some time alone. “Yeah, sure,” Spike said, catching the hidden signals as easily as Dawn had. “You gonna need to go back to the dorm tonight, Bit? ‘ve got a couch that folds out.”

 

She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

They sat together on the couch for a long time after she’d followed him down the stairs, and he’d given her the tour. It wasn’t much, as apartments went, just one large main room with a wet bar and micro-fridge, bathroom, and a bedroom. But, as Spike pointed out, he didn’t need much more than that.

 

Like at their leave-taking, neither of them were quite sure what to say, and a three-year separation didn’t seem to help. Dawn finally broke the silence. “So, you got the chip out.”

 

“Yeah,” Spike admitted. “Nika told you.”

 

The girl nodded. “She said how you met, but not why you’re staying here.”

 

Spike shrugged. “’s nicer than a lot of my other options, an’ it just happened that way. I dunno.”

 

“You’re not killing again.”

 

“That would mean your sis was right about me, an’ I hate it when she’s right.”

 

Dawn laughed at that one. “Me too. Why didn’t you say something?”

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to know, luv. Seemed silly to tell you, I s’pose. An’ I didn’t know if she would find out. Didn’t really need someone comin’ after me,” he explained.

 

“I understand,” Dawn replied, and Spike could hear in her tone that she did, but that she was also disappointed he’d never told her. “She doesn’t know.”

 

Spike swallowed. He’d wondered if Buffy would ask about him and his whereabouts, but she obviously hadn’t. It was more of a disappointment than he’d wanted it to be. “Right. Well, s’pose it’s for the best, then.”

 

“You work for Wesley?” she asked, for lack of anything else to say.

 

Spike looked at her, surprised. “No, ‘course not. Don’t work for anybody. Sometimes I give him a hand, an’ he might split the fee with me.”

 

“Does he live here too?” Dawn asked. She was still trying to get a feel for this new life Spike had somehow found himself in. It was strange to see him being so friendly with people other than her sister or the other Scoobies. Spike had never struck her as someone who would actually have friends.

 

Spike laughed. “No, Wes has his own place, even if you’d never know it, him bein’ over here so much. He an’ Nika are pretty close.”

 

“But you and her aren’t…you know.” Dawn didn’t think Spike was quite over Buffy yet. For one thing, he’d never come back to Sunnydale. For another, just the way he didn’t say the Slayer’s name, referring to her as “your sister,” even in his letters, told her that the vampire was still in love.

 

Spike shook his head. “No,” he replied softly. “Nika—she shouldn’t even be friends with me, strictly speakin’. Everybody she ever loved was killed by vampires. Somehow—somehow it didn’t matter so much with us two. But—”

 

“So, you’re saying you’re the odd couple,” Dawn said, striking for levity.

 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said, smiling at her. “’sides, ‘m still in love with—her. An’ Nika’s—not my type.”

 

“More Wesley’s type,” Dawn commented.

 

Spike shook his head. “Not sure what happened there. One day they were all friendly an’ the next they’re makin’ eyes at each other. Not that they’ve done anythin’ about it yet.”

 

“Is it okay for me to be here?” Dawn asked suddenly. “I mean, I know you didn’t say anything about me being able to come.”

 

“No, ‘m glad you’re here,” Spike said, interrupting her. “Like a touch of home, Bit.”

 

“Good,” Dawn said, suddenly relaxing back onto his shoulder. It was suddenly like it had been that summer, the good one. In a really, really miserable sort of way. It was the two of them again, and Dawn felt complete for the first time in a while. It wouldn’t last, though, she knew that much. There were too many other people who were missing from her life. But for now, for the moment, it was good.


	3. April 2003

Wesley ignored the burning pain in his arm as he trudged back to his motorcycle. Tonight’s efforts were going to bring a nice, fat paycheck, which would pay the rent and afford him some new gadgets. The last few months had allowed him to get back on his feet, financially speaking, and at this point he was doing better than he ever had while working for Angel Investigations.

 

That was only his bank account speaking, however. The loneliness and despair did not lessen over time, not enough to make any difference at all.

 

The sound of a fight reached his ears: scuffling feet, snarls and growls, the cry of a woman. He had every intention of ignoring it. Wesley was no longer in the business of helping the helpless, after all. He was in it for the money. That’s what he tried to tell himself, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, sending him towards the fight, rather than back to his bike.

 

He arrived at the scene in time to see a vampire crack a blond man over the back of the head with a pipe, while two other vampires converged on a woman about his own age. Wesley snapped his right wrist, releasing the stake from its sheathe, and waded into the fight. He managed to catch two from behind before they even knew there was someone else there. The third offered more of a challenge, but Wesley dispensed of him quickly. He had gotten quite used to relying on his own skills, with no one to watch his back over the last months.

 

Regarding the woman with a hard gaze, he asked, “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” she replied, leaning over her unconscious companion. He lay sprawled out, and Wesley could just make out sharp features in the light of the streetlamps.

 

“And your friend?” he asked, wanting to be able to leave, and yet not wanting to leave her to her own defenses. Certainly not wanting to leave a man in the street who might be dying. He’d had quite enough of that.

 

The woman smiled at him. “Spike will be fine. If you wouldn’t mind helping me get him to the car, though, I would appreciate it.”

 

The name sparked a memory, that and the bleached hair and black attire. “Spike?” Wesley knelt down next to her to get a better look, and found himself looking at someone he’d never expected to see again. The last he’d heard, Spike was in Sunnydale, helping the Slayer. He had caught a glimpse of the vampire when they had all attended Buffy’s funeral, and later stopped by the house to offer their sympathies. Spike had been rather elusive, but he had seen him, enough to know that this was the same Spike he was looking at now.

 

“You do know he’s a vampire, don’t you?” Wesley asked the woman, in all seriousness. He wasn’t too keen on vampires himself anymore.

 

She nodded. “I know. He’s different.”

 

“That’s what they’re all saying, these days,” Wesley said dryly. He sighed, knowing that he was probably going to regret this. “How far away is your car?”

 

“Just another block,” she replied. “I’m Nika Owen, by the way. Do you know Spike?”

 

He shook his head. “Not exactly. We have—mutual acquaintances. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Nika replied, shaking his hand before grabbing one of Spike’s arms to haul him up. Wesley grabbed the other arm, and between the two of them managed to get him to his feet. Spike wasn’t stirring, and Wesley felt himself wincing in sympathy. A blow that hard was going to leave quite a mark.

 

Wesley took his weight and motioned with his chin for her to lead the way. “I’ve got him.”

 

She paused. “Are you sure? You’re injured.”

 

He looked at the make-shift bandage on his arm and shrugged. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we?” Wesley followed Nika, half carrying, half dragging Spike. He was terribly curious as to what had led to the vampire being here in L.A., rather than with Buffy. From the things that the Slayer’s friends had said, Spike was curiously devoted to her.

 

He had no desire to make conversation, however. No desire to attempt to make friends with this woman, who seemed to like vampires. They walked in silence, until she pointed to a battered Toyota. “This one.” Wesley helped her get Spike situated in the back seat, and then stepped away. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride somewhere?” Nika asked. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

 

Shaking his head, Wesley replied, “I don’t think so. My bike isn’t far.”

 

“Alright.” As he turned to go, she called out after him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to look at that arm?” When he faced her again, she explained, “I have some experience. It would mean you wouldn’t have to go to the doctor, maybe, and that kind of wound is hard to bandage yourself. I feel as though I owe you.”

 

He was going to say no. He had every intention of saying no. But Wesley had always been an inquisitive sort of person, and he had to wonder why Spike was here, why he seemed to be friends with this woman. Finally, he nodded. “Very well.”

 

Nika gave him a ride to his bike, three blocks away, and then he followed her to her house. Between the two of them, it was easy enough to get Spike inside and situate him on the couch. “He’ll have a nasty headache when he wakes up,” Nika commented. “But I think he’ll survive.”

 

“Head wounds generally aren’t fatal to vampires,” Wesley agreed. He followed her into the kitchen, and she waved him into a seat at the small table.

 

She was rummaging around in the cupboards over the stove. “I have the first aid supplies here somewhere.”

 

“You do this often?” Wesley said, sounding amused.

 

“When Spike hunts,” Nika explained, pulling down a box of supplies. “And before. Danny—my husband—wasn’t human. Not completely.” She turned to Wesley suddenly, and her eyes revealed a pain hardly healed. “Have you heard of the Barach’na? They’re usually found in Wales.”

 

Wesley frowned slightly. “A demon clan. Rumored to be shape-shifters. Also thought to be the source of some of the folk tales.”

 

“Danny’s mother was—half, you know. He said it was quite a love story.” Nika tried for a smile, and didn’t quite make it. “I’m probably boring you.”

 

“Hardly,” Wesley assured her. Lost love was not something he would sneer at. “What happened to him?”

 

She shook her head. “He was out hunting. Danny was a police officer, but he went sometimes off-duty, you know.” Nika set the box on the table in front of Wesley. “Vampire.”

 

“And you still allow Spike in your home?” Wesley was a little surprised at that.

 

Nika sighed. “Spike saved my life.” She frowned. “In a way. It was more along the lines of misery needing company.” She looked at Wesley. “You’ll need to take your shirt off.”

 

“Right,” Wesley replied. He removed the handkerchief from his arm, and peeled his jacket off, hanging it over the back of the chair. He pulled the long-sleeved gray t-shirt over his head, and sat back down at the table.

 

Nika pulled a chair over on Wesley’s right side, beginning to dab at the laceration. “This is probably going to need stitches.”

 

“Can you do that?”

 

“Certified EMT,” Nika replied quietly, turning to rummage around the kit again. “It helps pay the bills when the midwife business is slow.”

 

As she turned her head, Wesley could see the scar on her neck that could have been made by one thing only. “Your neck.”

 

Nika stopped what she was doing and said very quietly. “It was the way that Spike saved me.”

 

He didn’t understand, but he didn’t ask. The openness that had been present a few moments before was gone. Nika went to the fridge and pulled out a jar of something. She filled a mug with the liquid, which resembled tea, and handed it to him. “Drink.”

 

“May I ask what it is?” Wesley sounded more than a little cautious.

 

She gave him an amused smile. “Tea. It will take the edge off while I stitch you up. Plus, it’s cleansing. I got the recipe from my grandmother.”

 

He gave up and drank as Nika swabbed the wound with alcohol. Wesley hissed in pain, but said nothing. “There,” she murmured. “Just a few stitches, and you’ll be good as new.”

 

Her movements quick and gentle, she put the stitches in, seven in all. Then, once she’d gotten that done, she wrapped gauze around his arm and taped it into place. Wesley flexed his arm experimentally, and finally nodded. “Good as new, indeed.”

 

Their eyes met, and some unknown emotion flashed across Nika’s face. Wesley felt an odd pull in her direction, like he hadn’t felt since Fred. More might have been said, but just then Wesley heard footsteps behind him. “Who’s the wanker?”

 

Wesley turned to see Spike standing in the doorway, looking almost hung-over. “Spike.” Though her tone was mild, it was enough to have Spike backing off slightly.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping into the kitchen. Wesley noted that he was limping rather badly, and thought that might have been the reason he hadn’t done as well against the other vampires earlier in the evening.

 

Nika let out a short, exasperated breath. “Spike, I think you and Wesley already know each other. And he did save our lives, so you might want to try being polite.”

 

Spike cocked his head to one side as he regarded Wesley with a steady gaze. After a moment, recognition made his eyes widen slightly. “The Watcher. You’re not with Angel anymore.”

 

“No, I’m an independent contractor now,” Wesley replied, a flash of self-deprecating amusement entering his eyes as he remembered meeting Angel all those years before. He’d called himself a “rogue demon hunter” then. He didn’t feel quite so pretentious these days.

 

“Kill demons and such for fun, then?” Spike asked, a gleam in his eyes. “Sure it wouldn’t be fun to kill the Great Poof?”

 

Wesley very nearly smiled. He wouldn’t say that it hadn’t crossed his mind. Knowing how the vampire felt about Angel, and Angel about Spike, he would be willing to guess that there would be substantial fireworks if the two ever met. “There have been times,” he admitted.

 

Spike almost smiled in return, and a brief flash of understanding went between them. “Feelin’ a bit peckish,” he said to Nika. “Think I’ll head downstairs and have an early dinner before I catch some more sleep.”

 

“Spike—” The vampire stopped at the open door to the basement. “Thanks. You did well tonight.”

 

“Right. Did real good lettin’ m’self get all knocked out,” he replied bitterly.

 

Nika went over to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “There were seven. You took out four. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Wesley very nearly couldn’t make out what Spike said in reply.

 

“Days were when I could’ve taken on the whole gang.” He looked back at Nika, and then threw a glance over his shoulder at Wesley. “’m not what I was, but you need a hand with somethin’ big, you let me know, yeah? I could use a spot of violence now and then.”

 

He retreated down the stairs, and Nika turned to face the ex-Watcher. “He meant it. Spike will go out hunting every once in a while, and he usually comes back in one piece. He likes a good rumble.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Wesley looked at the wall clock, and then said, “I should really be going. It’s late.”

 

“You’ll need a shirt,” Nika replied. “Let me get you one.” She came back a few minutes later with a dark blue button down flannel. She handed it to him, a pained look on her face. “It was my husband’s,” she explained.

 

Wesley looked at the cloth he held in his hand for a long moment, and then nodded in understanding. “I’ll return it to you.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Nika asked. Then she looked at the clock herself. “Or, later today anyway. Not that I’m in a hurry,” she hastened to assure him. “It’s just—you could come for dinner if you’d like.”

 

Wesley wasn’t sure he would like. He had been trying to not trust people, to cut himself off. He had no desire to be hurt as badly as he had been with Angel and the rest of his lot. This was how it had started with Angel and Cordelia, he remembered. Angel had asked if he wanted to stay for breakfast, and he had. But he could feel the tension of the gauze around his arm, the soft brushed cotton of the shirt, and he knew suddenly that he would say yes. This time around, he would simply do a better job of protecting himself. And he would try not to bungle things so badly.

 

“What time?”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley went to bed as soon as he got back to his apartment. There were a few times along the way where he thought it iffy that he would make it back in one piece, as tired as he was. When he slept, he slept better than he had in months.

 

If he thought about it long enough, Wesley could remember a point in time when he slept with a clear conscience, when he had a rather more optimistic view of life, when he believed it more likely that things would turn out well, rather than all go to hell. It had been a long time since he’d not woken up, breathless, from dreams of betrayal and smothering. He was never certain whose betrayal he was dreaming of: Angel’s or his own.

 

Waking around noon, however, Wesley found himself relaxed, and feeling almost content. When he rolled over and saw the borrowed shirt folded carefully over a chair, he smiled. And thinking of Spike’s words, that if he needed a hand, he had one…

 

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to do this again, he reminded himself. Having just rid himself of Lilah, he was certainly not going to get himself tangled up with another. Wesley felt a pang of regret.

 

It had been a mutual leave-taking of sorts. He found himself more and more frustrated with his own actions, his own betrayal of principles, and Lilah was getting more frustrated by her inability to recruit him. They’d had a night of rough, though highly satisfying, sex, and they had both known it was goodbye. She had gone without saying a word, and they hadn’t spoken since. It was just as well, really.

 

Wesley rose, and found himself steady on his feet and clear-headed, wondering suddenly, and for the first time, what had been in that drink that Nika had given him. There was no way a casual conversation and a few hours sleep should have had him feeling this good. He showered, waiting for the feelings to dissipate, but instead he found himself looking forward to the evening, having dinner with someone else, rather than eating alone.

 

He was just toweling his hair when there was a knock on the door. Pulling a shirt on over his head, he opened it to find an unexpected guest. “Hey, Wes.”

 

Wesley stared at Cordelia, startled. He hadn’t seen her since she’d gone on her vacation with the Groosalug. “Hello,” he replied, cautiously.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

Silently, he stood aside and let her enter. “What are you doing here?” he asked, after he’d shut the door.

 

“I wanted to see you,” she said honestly. “It’s been a while.”

 

Wesley was still looking at her out of careful eyes, and Cordelia realized that the man standing before her was not her Wes anymore. The Wesley of her memory had been buried under betrayal, grief, and guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she confessed.

 

He gave a little shrug, as though it didn’t matter. “I didn’t expect you to come. You’re with Angel.”

 

She winced. “Wesley, he just needs a little more time. He’s softening, you know, now that Connor’s doing better. He just needs—”

 

“Another chance to kill me?” Wesley asked, with a raised eyebrow, his tone icy. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t give it to him.” He sighed. “Look, Cordelia, I appreciate what you’re saying, and Angel certainly has his reasons for being angry with me, but we’re done.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” she replied, hurt. “If you’ll just give him time to come around…”

 

“How long?” Wesley asked quietly. “Another year, perhaps? Two? And what do I do in the meantime? Simply wait on Angel’s forgiveness?” He shook his head. “What I did was unforgivable. Just as what Angel did to me was unforgettable.”

 

Cordelia sighed. He was right, really. It was impossible to tell how long Angel would hold this grudge, impossible to know when he’d get off his high horse and admit that Wes hadn’t been acting out of malice, and that he’d lost both his son and his best friend in the same day. “I’m sorry.”

 

He almost smiled then. “So am I.” Wesley looked over at her. “If you ever need me, you know where to find me.”

 

Cordelia understood what he was saying. They shared a bond that went back a long way, and he wasn’t ignoring that fact, but the part of their relationship where they were friends was done. They now stood on opposing sides, and Wesley stood alone. “Same goes for you,” she replied, trying to smile. “Don’t be afraid to look me up, okay?”

 

He reached over and touched her cheek with his finger. “Of course. It was good to see you, Cordy.”

 

And that was pretty much how it ended. With a whimper.

 

~~~~~

 

“Come on, Buffy, this is a great opportunity.” Steve looked enthusiastic. Of course, Steve almost always looked enthusiastic. “San Francisco is a gorgeous city.”

 

Buffy wouldn’t know, having never been there. She couldn’t believe this was happening again. “I can’t just pack up and leave Sunnydale,” she replied. “I have responsibilities here.”

 

He shook his head. “Your sister? You know I like Dawn. There are good schools there too. She can finish high school there. I really don’t mind if she’s living with us.”

 

The crazy thing was that Buffy knew he was telling the truth. He really didn’t mind if Dawn stayed with them. Steve had told her over and over how much he admired her for stepping up to the plate and raising her younger sister. And Dawn liked him well enough. She wasn’t crazy about him, but she liked him.

 

The problem came in where Sunnydale was the Hellmouth, and she was still the Slayer. Steve didn’t know about her extracurricular activities. It was another thing she liked about him. He was very independent, and had no problem with his girlfriend having a life separate from his own. They had their own friends, their own hobbies, and hung out together in between.

 

Now, however, Steve had a job offer that he wasn’t going to pass up, and he wanted Buffy to come with him. Even if she hadn’t been the Slayer, she would have been leery of the offer. Moving to a strange city, knowing no one, without a job or an income on her own—well, her track record with men seemed to indicate that she could soon find herself stranded and with nothing to fall back on.

 

No thank you.

 

Buffy hated this. She liked Steve. He was a great guy. Sweet, funny, a real go-getter, didn’t put a lot of demands on her. And, most importantly, she wasn’t deeply in love with him. Not being head over heels meant she could keep her head, and in a situation like this, that’s exactly what she needed to do. She had duties, she had a responsibility to be in Sunnydale, or at least pretty darn close to the Hellmouth. And Dawn would never forgive her for moving them so close to her senior year. It just wouldn’t be fair.

 

“I’m sorry, Steve, I can’t,” she explained. “I think it’s great—for you. Dawn’s going to be a senior next year, I’ve finally got a good job, I can’t just pick up and leave.”

 

He frowned. “I thought you loved me, Buffy.”

 

Little white lies never hurt anyone, she told herself. “I do. But I’m not the only one in this relationship. It also includes my sister (not to mention the Hellmouth, she thought), and I have to put her first.”

 

It was a cop out, and Buffy knew it. She was pretty sure Steve knew it too, because if she’d really wanted to be with him, they might have been able to work something else out. Buffy might have let Dawn stay with Xander for her last year of high school. Steve seemed to sense her resolution, however, and he didn’t push it.

 

“I’m sorry too, Buffy,” he said quietly. “I have to take this, though. It’s—”

 

“It’s important,” she finished. “I understand.”

 

He nodded, looking a little sad. “I’ll call you in a couple days, okay? I—I don’t have to leave for another month.”

 

Buffy nodded, and accepted his kiss. The relationship was already over, of course. It had been over the moment he’d accepted the promotion without even asking if she would come with him. The job was more important than her, and she was okay with that. Her job was more important than Steve, and it always would be. Buffy felt a pang, but it wasn’t for the loss of Steve. It was more for what their relationship would never have been.

 

She found herself thinking of a pair of passionate blue eyes. The way _he_ had looked at her—She shook off the thought. _He_ was gone. Had been for over a year now. And really, it was for the best. It wasn’t as though she could have made it work.

 

Buffy felt another wave of regret sweep over her, and she fought back tears. Really, there was no way they could have made it work.


	4. October 2005

A/N: _Cariad_ is a Welsh term of endearment.

Buffy sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom, staring at the white stick. She read the instructions on the back of the box again, and then looked at the little pink lines. It was positive. Even after the fifth reading of the results and stick, it was positive.

 

She put a trembling hand to her face. This was not happening. This just couldn’t be happening. She felt nauseous, and she was fairly certain it wasn’t because of the morning sickness, which had induced her to buy the at-home pregnancy test. Buffy had never wanted to be pregnant. Oh, maybe way back when, back when she’d first become the Slayer, before she found out Angel couldn’t have kids—

 

Back then, she couldn’t wait. She drew hearts all over her notebooks that read “Buffy and Angel 4ever.” She thought of names for all their kids, and how many they might have, and how someday they’d have the perfect life. Even knowing he was a vampire, she hadn’t given up that dream. She’d merely altered it a bit, thinking that they would work it out.

 

But after Angel, and then Riley—not to mention Spike, and Richard, and Steve—her dreams had changed. Instead, Buffy really just wanted to be happy. Dawn had been enough to raise. There was no way she wanted to be a single mother. And since Riley had left, she’d had no intention of marrying any of the guys she’d been with.

 

(Oh, but Spike—her brain reminded her. She might not have married him, but he would have gone to the Antipodes and back to make her happy. He would have worshipped the ground she walked on. He would have lifted her up every time she fell. He would have fought by her side.)

 

Buffy swallowed, forcing those memories away. It didn’t matter. She was pregnant, and whether she really wanted to be or not, whether she’d planned it or not, it was still her baby, her child. Having never thought to have the opportunity to give birth, she wouldn’t throw away what might be her only chance.

 

But at the same time, there was no joy in the knowledge of new life. There was only fear and heartache and disappointment. Buffy bent her head and wept.

 

~~~~~

 

“Come on, Spike. We were supposed to hang out tonight,” Dawn pleaded, her voice dangerously close to a whine. She didn’t much like it when she whined, and had worked hard to grow out of that stage, but her disappointment was keen.

 

Spike looked over at her regretfully. “’m sorry, Bit, but we’ve got a job to do. Wish it was a 9 to 5, but duty calls.”

 

It sounded bizarre to hear Spike talking about duty. It was just as bizarre to hear him talk about duty while they sat at a cheery kitchen table with Wesley working on some research and Nika humming behind them. Dawn had come to like both Wes and Nika over the last couple months. Their presence, and the warmth of the house, had kept much of the homesickness she might have felt at bay. But more than that, with Spike and his friends, she wasn’t just “Buffy’s kid sister.” She was Dawn, her own person, and they all treated her more like an adult than Buffy and the Scooby gang ever had.

 

Thinking about that now, Dawn modified her tone slightly. “Spike, I don’t have a lot of time to spend with you, and Thursday night is our night since I don’t have an early class.” Seeing that she was getting through, Dawn added, “I’d rather go on this mission with you guys than miss out on spending time with you.”

 

That sent Spike’s head up as he looked at her, alarmed. “Absolutely not,” he replied flatly. “You might get hurt, an’ how would I explain that to—to—” His jaw tightened, and Dawn realized that he wasn’t even able to say her name at this point.

 

It reminded her of when she’d tried to give him his duster back, about a week after she’d gotten into town. He’d taken one alarmed look at it and shoved it back into her arms. “Smells like her, like your house,” was all he’d been able to say. Dawn had taken it back and hung it up in her closet in the dorm. Her roommate probably thought she was nuts for owning a black leather coat like that in southern California, but Dawn didn’t offer an explanation. The duster—like so many other things about her life—was inexplicable.

 

“I can take care of myself,” Dawn said patiently, knowing that she’d get her way eventually. Spike hated breaking a promise to her, and from the look in his eyes, he was already beginning to take a little guilt trip.

 

“No. ‘Sides, Wes an’ I can handle this ourselves,” Spike said. “Tell her, mate.”

 

“I’m not going to tell her anything,” Wesley replied in that oh-so-very even tone he used most of the time. Dawn found it annoying, but she knew it had to do with his not being welcome among Angel’s gang, and tried not to get too snippy. Sometimes, Wesley’s eyes reminded her of Spike’s the night he left Sunnydale.

 

Dawn looked back at the vampire. “Spike, I can so take care of myself. I was getting Slayer training for the last year, and I might not be quite up to my sister’s standards, but I’m still pretty good.”

 

Spike looked conflicted, and Dawn knew she had her foot in the door. “Anyway, the more the merrier, right? It just means we’ll be done that much faster.”

 

“I don’t know, Dawn. If you get hurt—”

 

“And I can call Connor,” Dawn said, playing her trump card. “With the four of us, the demon will be dead in no time, he’ll watch out for me, and you two will get your paycheck.”

 

It was Wesley who raised an objection at this point. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Dawn. I know you’ve been seeing Connor, but I hardly think his father will want him chasing down demons with us.”

 

Dawn shook her head. “Connor’s old enough to decide what he wants for himself. And with all the classes I’m taking, plus the work-study job, I don’t have enough time to see you guys separately.” She turned to Spike. “Please, Spike. I just want to be able to spend time with you, and I want you to meet Connor. You’re the only family I really have here in L.A. I want you to like him.”

 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered. He wasn’t any more immune to Dawn’s puppy dog eyes than he had been when he’d first helped her break into the Magic Box. That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship, one Dawn was intent on keeping intact. “’s up to Wes,” he finally replied. “He’s the boss. He thinks you can be of some use, then you can come. An’ you can bring the whelp.”

 

Dawn didn’t argue with Spike’s nickname for Connor. She knew that her boyfriend (of sorts) would have to earn the vampire’s respect on his own. Turning to look at Wesley, she realized that he was probably her biggest obstacle. His history with Angel made it unlikely that he would want Angel’s son along for the ride. Dawn hadn’t reckoned on Nika, however.

 

“Wesley, let the girl bring her friend. If you think it’s too dangerous, have them wait in the car.” Nika pulled two hot sandwiches off the griddle and set the plates down in front of Dawn and Wesley. “And you will eat before you leave here tonight,” she warned Wesley. “Otherwise, I’ll make sure Spike locks you in the basement, and he can take care of the monster by himself.”

 

Wesley gave her a rueful look. “Thank you, Nika. I haven’t eaten since—” he paused, trying to remember when he’d last eaten.

 

“Precisely my point,” the woman said, shaking her head. “It’s a good thing I don’t have to push Spike to eat as well. I’d have both hands full then.” She gave Dawn’s shoulders a squeeze. “Call your friend, _cariad_. If he gets here quickly enough, I’ll make some dinner for him as well.”

 

Dawn leapt up to use her cell phone in the adjoining room. Wesley turned to look at Nika. “I thought I was the one in charge.”

 

She smiled at him indulgently. “Wesley, love, you might be in charge out in the field, but you’re in my kitchen. Besides, Spike wants Dawn around, and if Dawn is here, her boyfriend will inevitably follow. Better just to get used to it.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “Danika, you know—”

 

“I do, but this is Dawn and Connor, not you and Angel. Remember that.” Nika fixed him with a gentle look that Spike regarded with interest. The two of them had sparks flying between them like he’d rarely seen, but as far as he could tell they hadn’t done anything about it yet. They were both so bloody reserved, he had a feeling that unless something knocked them over the head, it could go on like this forever. Veiled looks, significant glances, sly references…Spike bit back a sigh. He really wasn’t sure how much more of that he could take before he had to soddin’ well say something.

 

He couldn’t help but grin a little, rather evilly, at that. Spike could think of a number of things he could say.

 

Dawn slid back into her seat at the table and began to eat her sandwich with relish. “Connor’s going to be here in about thirty minutes,” she said. She looked over at Spike. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t thank me, thank Wesley,” he said, a little growl in his voice, but he didn’t look all that unhappy about the situation. Truthfully, he could never be unhappy if Dawn was spending time with him.

 

Dawn could still see tension in the line of Wesley’s jaw and the set of his shoulders, however, and she said quietly, “Wes, Connor’s not going to tell his dad about any of this. In fact, Angel still doesn’t know we’re seeing each other. He just thinks we’re friends.”

 

Wesley looked at her in surprise. “Why shouldn’t Angel know? I doubt he’d be unhappy with the situation.”

 

Dawn laughed. “Yeah, we would really want Angel to know, because then Cordy will find out, and pretty soon Fred will know too. And when they find out, it will just be a matter of time before one of them lets Willow know, who will then tell my sister. Who still doesn’t know that Angel has a son, by the way.”

 

Both men stared at her incredulously. “Wait a minute,” Spike said. “How’s that possible?”

 

“Would you want to be the one to tell her?” Dawn asked, with a raised eyebrow. At the look in Spike’s eyes, she nodded. “Precisely. Nobody wanted to tell her, so no one ever did. And I’m not going to volunteer for the job either.”

 

Wesley smiled knowingly. “I’d love to be there to see your sister’s face when she finds out.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Spike replied. “Girl’s gotten a bit more bite over the years since you’ve known her. She’s the last person you want to piss off. Trust me.”

 

Wesley looked at him across the table. “I do.”

 

There was a long pause. It had long been the unspoken understanding that things like trust and friendship were never discussed between them, nor with Nika. By discussing it, it would make it real, and by making it real, it would make it that much more painful when it all fell apart. Spike had a curious expression on his face, almost like he couldn’t breathe, even though he really didn’t need to, and he finally nodded. “Ta.”

 

Dawn looked over at Nika, who stood next to the stove. The older woman smiled at her with an understanding that said she knew what just happened, and had been waiting for it.

 

The doorbell rang, breaking the moment, and Dawn jumped up. There was a warmth in her chest, having seen what she did, knowing that Spike was happy here. Or, at least, as Nika had said, as happy as he could be.

 

Taking her lessons in not opening the door for vampires to heart, she looked through the peephole, only to see Connor standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable. Dawn quickly let him in, greeting him with a gentle, lingering kiss. “Hey. I’m glad you came.”

 

Connor shrugged. “You said you were going to fight a demon. I wanted to spend time with you. Sounds like the best possible night.”

 

Dawn laughed, knowing he liked a good fight as much as Spike did, if not more. “I’m glad I could give you a nice evening.”

 

His eyes lit up. “I know how we could make it better, later on.”

 

“Don’t even think about it, mister,” Dawn warned him, her eyes twinkling. “At least not within earshot of Spike. He’d beat the crap out of you.”

 

Connor’s eyes glittered. “He could try.”

 

“Don’t, please,” Dawn said quietly, hoping that Spike wasn’t listening. “I’ve had enough of people I love hating each other. It’s worse than my parents. Please, just try to get along with him.”

 

Connor looked at her, suddenly serious in that way only he seemed to have. He regarded her with a hunter’s eye, sizing up her emotions, her movements, the flush of her cheeks and the quickness of her heartbeat. “Okay.”

 

She relaxed, knowing that he was as good as his word. “Good. Because like I told Wes and Spike, I want to spend time with all of you, and I don’t always have enough hours in the day. It’s better if you can spend time with me when I’m over here.”

 

Connor grabbed for her hand. “I want you to be happy,” he said simply. “I’ve never been as happy with anyone else as I am with you.”

 

Tugging him down for another kiss, Dawn marveled at his charm. The way he looked at the world was often too black and white, but it revealed a childlike naiveté that was rapidly giving way to a kind of wisdom.

 

There was a loud throat clearing behind them, and Dawn pulled away to see Spike standing behind them, looking on with amusement. “Nika said she’s got some food for you, if you want to eat.”

 

The vampire made no disparaging remarks, nor did he use any of his characteristic nicknames, and Dawn was grateful. Spike could be incredibly annoying when he put his mind to it, and the fact that he seemed willing to give Connor a chance warmed her. “Thanks, Spike,” she said, in such a tone as to know that he would hear the double meaning behind it.

 

“You’re quite welcome, luv.” He turned to go back into the kitchen, his gait still uneven. Dawn loved him as much in that moment as she had at any other time in her life.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy was silent as Peter stared at her, obviously angry. “Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded. “Because it’s not funny.”

 

“It’s not a joke,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, but accidents happen, Peter.”

 

He was angry. Buffy could tell he was angry—no, downright furious, as though she’d deliberately planned this. As though he’d had no part in it. “Right, Buffy,” he spat. “You were on the pill. You were supposed to prevent this.”

 

“I was supposed to prevent this?” she asked, furious in turn. She wasn’t any happier about this than he was, but at least she wasn’t attacking him, accusing him of getting her pregnant. Which was completely true. “I’m not the only one in the room here, Peter. I think you were pretty much involved as well.”

 

His eyes narrowed. He had dark eyes and dark hair, like Angel had, and he was a big, bulky guy as most of her boyfriends had been. Buffy had thought he was cute, and she’d felt safe in his arms. Now, she didn’t understand what she’d seen in him in the first place. It suddenly dawned on her: he was a jerk, a user, just like Parker had been. She had repeated a mistake she’d sworn she wouldn’t make again.

 

“Fine.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I know neither one of us are at fault here, okay? So I’ll pay to get rid of it.”

 

Buffy took a step back. He said it like he was doing her some big favor, like that was her only option. The little bastard didn’t even ask her what she wanted to do. “I don’t want to ‘get rid of it,’” Buffy said as evenly as she could. “I’m keeping the baby, Peter.”

 

His face flushed. “No.”

 

“It’s my body, my choice,” she replied. “And it’s none of your business. If you want to be around for it, fine. But if you walk away now, don’t expect to have any say later on.” Buffy was controlling her temper only by an act of will. She wanted to punch him, break his nose. Even if she hadn’t wanted this pregnancy, every protective instinct within her told her that Peter was a danger. A danger to what she wanted.

 

Peter’s face contorted, then smoothed out. He was suddenly the charming man she’d known again, but Buffy had already seen the beast inside. She didn’t think he would hit her, but there were other ways to hurt a person. “All right,” he replied. “But I want you to sign papers saying that you won’t ask me for money. You keep this kid, you’re on your own, Buf.”

 

The way he said it was so cold, so unlike the man she had thought she’d known—Buffy laughed to herself. It was so obvious now that she’d never known him at all. She’d never really known any of the guys she’d been with over the past couple years, nor had they known her. With the exception of Richard, they hadn’t even known she was the Slayer. Buffy had given serious thought to telling Peter, but now she was glad she hadn’t. Dawn had warned her about him, had told Buffy that he was a user, but she hadn’t listened. Hadn’t she used guys herself before? She figured she’d know one if she saw one.

 

But he had been sweet and handsome and attentive. He had made her forget for a little while that she was the Slayer, and a responsible adult. In that way, he’d reminded her of Spike. Spike had helped her forget for a while too. He’d helped her feel, helped her shake off the numbness.

 

And now she had to ask herself—whose problem had that been? She had blamed him, but shouldn’t she have blamed herself? Because in the end, standing here as she listened to Peter’s cruel words, she heard an echo of herself, and she hated it.

 

Buffy swallowed hard and looked Peter straight in the eye. “I’ve always been on my own,” she replied quietly.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley holstered the semi-automatic he usually carried and looked around. Spike and Connor were finishing up the dismemberment job on the demon, while Dawn looked on, a disgusted expression on her face. She was absentmindedly wiping down the sword she held with a piece of her ripped shirt. The ex-Watcher smiled as he saw the expert way she held the weapon. She really was something of a natural.

 

Connor had been quite helpful as well. Wesley was rather relieved that he’d allowed the teens to come along, if only because the Grashalk demon was about six feet longer than he’d been told. He and Spike might have been able to handle it on their own, but it would have been difficult, to say the least.

 

Spike straightened shakily, his bad leg a little wobbly. He was usually okay, but there had been a number of jobs the last few days, and the limp was worse when he was tired. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he looked over at Dawn and Connor. “You both did alright.”

 

Dawn beamed. She knew a compliment like that, coming from Spike, was worth her weight in gold. Connor seemed to realize that he’d been paid an honor as well. “You too,” he said.

 

Wes regarded their kill impassively, though there was a small stirring of pride in his eyes. “We all did well tonight. Let’s go home.”

 

Spike bagged the head—proof of deed for those that had hired them, and Connor took it from his grasp. “I’ll get it.” The boy picked it up easily, walking close to Dawn as they made their way out from the basement of the high school where the demon had been hiding. Spike and Wesley followed behind the two teens at a slower pace.

 

“Where the bloody hell do they get their energy?” Spike muttered, walking next to Wesley with his rolling gait.

 

Wesley smiled. “You sound like an old man, Spike. I thought vampires weren’t supposed to age.”

 

“They aren’t,” was Spike’s gruff answer. “Still, don’t remember feelin’ that—”

 

“Young?” Wesley asked quietly. “In love?”

 

“She’s not in love with him,” Spike replied, disgruntled. “Barely knows the boy.”

 

Wesley smiled. He vaguely remembered those days, when attraction and love went so closely hand in hand that you could hardly tell the one from the other. When the joy of discovery was untainted by fear or uncertainty. He looked over at his companion and thought that Spike didn’t look the youthful vampire any longer. His face was still ageless, but his eyes gave the impression of being ancient, and his limp certainly gave the impression of age. “We are not what we were,” he acknowledged.

 

Spike looked over at him with more understanding than he would have credited to him a year ago. “You shouldn’t wait,” he said abruptly.

 

“Wait on what?” Wesley asked.

 

Spike hesitated. “Look, ‘m no expert on this kind of thing. My track record would pretty much suggest that I’m full of shit. But Nika’s movin’ on. If you want to be the one she moves on to, you might want to say somethin’, do somethin’.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wesley replied stiffly.

 

Spike glared at him. “Look, don’t go all tweed on me, mate. ‘m tryin’ to do you a favor.”

 

The vampire could be so prickly. Wesley knew he hadn’t been fair. “You and Nika—”

 

“Are friends,” Spike finished firmly. “Nothin’ more than that. Wes—you know my heart belongs to someone else. ‘ve finally figured out it probably will till I’m dust.” He shrugged. “I think she fancies you, though. Both of you deserve a bit of the good in life, yeah?”

 

“I can’t argue with you there,” Wesley said wryly, emerging from the school’s doorway, out under the open sky. He glanced up. The lights of the city were obscuring all but a few of the brightest stars. He felt Spike’s hand on his arm, and wondered at the fact that he’d found a bit of camaraderie with another vampire. Even if the vampire in question was Angel’s opposite in every way. “And what about you, Spike?”

 

“What about me?” he asked, his eyes going to Dawn, standing next to the car. She hardly seemed impatient to leave, as Connor used his thumb to brush some grit from her cheek, and then leaned down to kiss her. “She’s my bit of happiness. An’ I’m lucky to have her.”

 

Wesley didn’t reply, but simply put his hand on Spike’s shoulder, offering him a surreptitious arm to lean on. It was a mark of his exhaustion that he leaned just a bit as they walked back to the car.


	5. April 2003

Wesley hesitated in front of Nika’s door. He felt, quite suddenly, a little like that young man who had come to Sunnydale all those years ago. A little scared, a lot nervous, suddenly certain that his life was going to change, and possibly not for the better. It took a concerted effort on his part to shake off those feelings and knock on the door.

 

“Hi.” Nika smiled warmly when she saw him. Wesley couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him as though they were happy to see him. It was before Connor—before he’d made the colossal error of handing Connor over to Holtz. (Not that he’d meant to. Not that anyone had cared to ask.)

 

“Hello,” he replied, a little more formally. “I, uh, brought your shirt back.”

 

She took it from his grasp, an odd look on her face. Nika could smell Wesley on it, a scent distinct from Danny. Her husband had always worn a certain cologne, used a certain soap. It was a smell she knew from a hundred yards away, it seemed. And now—now the shirt smelled so differently that she never would have known Danny had worn it. “Thank you.” Nika stepped away from the doorway. “Come on in. Spike left as soon as the sun went down, so it’s just us.”

 

“Does he do that often?” Wesley asked. “Leave, I mean?”

 

She shrugged. “Sometimes. When he’s feeling a bit rough. Usually he’ll go out and get himself into a good old fashioned bar brawl, and then come back here to have me patch him up.”

 

Wesley didn’t know what to say to that. It was clear that she and the vampire had worked out some sort of agreement, odd couple though they might be. “He really has gotten better over the last year,” Nika said, bustling around the small kitchen while Wesley watched from the doorway. “When I first met him, that right leg was nearly useless, and his arm wasn’t much better.” She looked back at him. “Have a seat,” she suggested.

 

Pulling out the same chair he had occupied the previous evening while she had fixed him up, Wesley cleared his throat. “May I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course, though I can’t promise to answer,” Nika replied lightly.

 

“What was in that drink you gave me last night?”

 

He could see her pause in her movements. She wore a long skirt and a man’s shirt tied at her stomach. For a moment, Wesley thought she looked as though she dated back to another era, with her clothing and long braid dangling down her back. “Why do you ask?”

 

“It did something to me,” he replied quietly, wanting to feel angry, and yet unable to summon the emotion. She had given him a peaceful night’s sleep for once—it was hard to feel justifiably angry over that.

 

There was a longer pause this time before he heard her sigh. She turned to look at him. “It was what I told you. Something to take the edge off. Nothing odd about what’s in there: willow bark, chamomile, licorice, some other herbs. The key is in the words you speak over it while you’re making it. It’s an old family charm that my _nain_ taught me.”

 

“_Nain_?” Wesley asked, momentarily distracted. “You’re Welsh?”

 

“My mother and grandmother.” Nika turned back to the stove, still fussing. “She was the one who trained me to be a midwife.”

 

Wesley’s curiosity was threatening to get the better of him. There was something about this woman that intrigued him, more so than anyone had since—He stopped that thought. “Do you speak Welsh?”

 

“Quite well,” she admitted. “I lived over there for eight years, until I was 19. That’s when I married my husband, and we came back here.” Nika fixed him with a look, half playful challenge, half raw curiosity—not unlike his own. “I’ll tell you my story, if you’ll tell me yours.”

 

Wesley hesitated. There was no reason he shouldn’t tell her about himself. It wasn’t as though she would think more or less of him either way. It wasn’t as though it actually mattered. After all, he’d come tonight to return her shirt, and to allow her to repay him for saving her life. He had no intention of seeing her again, of making friends with her. “Alright,” he finally agreed. “You first.”

 

Nika raised an eyebrow and then shrugged, opening the oven and pulling out their dinner. “I think this story requires food,” she said. Wesley’s eyes widened when he saw what she’d made: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

 

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” Wesley protested, though his mouth was already beginning to water. As she dished up, he realized that she’d made a typical British dinner, much like the ones he’d been used to eating at his parents’ table years ago, or at the Watchers’ Academy. Of course, he had a feeling the company would be better tonight.

 

Nika shrugged. “No trouble. I imagine it’s a bit hard to get the real thing here, and I like to cook. I used to all the time for Danny. Sometimes, I’ll make a good, spicy curry for Spike and me, but he doesn’t much go for this sort of meal.”

 

“I didn’t know vampires ate,” Wesley said, watching as she set the plate down in front of him, and then seated herself.

 

She smiled. “I would imagine Spike isn’t like most vampires. At least, not like I would think they’d be.”

 

He nodded, and began eating when she encouraged him to begin. “So, you lived in Wales for eight years?” he prompted.

 

Nika smiled when she realized he wasn’t going to let her off the hook. Not that she minded so much, as she planned on making sure he told her his story. She had her own reasons for being intrigued by the hard-eyed man. “My mom met my da while she was over here for university. They said it was love at first sight. They did what people normally do—married, finished school, had children.”

 

She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “When I was eleven, my parents allowed me to stay the night at a friend’s house, and I was to walk home the next day. It was only a block or two, but it was the first time they had let me do something like that, and I felt so grown up.” Nika smiled. “I was as excited as though it were Christmas. When I got home that day, the front door was unlocked. I went in and found my parents on their bed. They—they had ripped out their throats, and had—at the time, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. My mom didn’t die easy, though. I imagine my da didn’t either. My little sister was in the room we shared.”

 

Wesley was staring at her, horrified. It was easy to imagine the girl she’d been, finding the bodies of her entire family, alone, scared… “You don’t have to tell me,” he began.

Nika shook her head. “It was a long time ago,” she said softly. “And the tale will not take much longer. I ran out into the yard screaming, and the neighbors called the police. Only days later, they held the funerals and cremated the bodies by my grandmother’s demand. She knew what had killed them, and she wasn’t about to take any chances. And then she packed me up and took me home with her, to Wales. I had nowhere else to go, and I didn’t mind. My parents had made plans for me to study with her later, as she was a midwife, and it was what I wanted to do since I was small.”

 

There was a long pause as Nika took a few more bites, composing herself. Wesley was shaken out of his own complacency a little. He had spent the last few months feeling slightly sorry for himself. Not that he’d been completely wallowing in self-pity, but the emotion had certainly been an ever-present companion. Now, he was looking at a woman who had lost as much or more than he ever had, and she told her story without a hint of bitterness. “When did you meet your husband?” he asked, wanting to know what happened next, worried she wouldn’t want to continue.

 

He needn’t have been concerned. A gentle smile lit her face as she remembered. “I was sixteen. He was two years older and in Wales with his family. They were there for the annual festival that the Barach’na hold for Samhain. It was the first time he was old enough to participate. Grandmother and I were there to help with the festivities, as she had some friends among the older folks. I was already delivering babies and doing all that my grandmother could do.” Nika laughed suddenly. “There was dancing, and Danny came right up to me and asked me to dance. I didn’t even know his name, but I went anyway.”

 

She looked Wesley in the eye for the first time since beginning her story. “I loved him from that moment. We married when I was nineteen, after I had finished my training, and came here. Danny joined the police force, and I received training to be an EMT, since midwives can’t always find work. We had eight years together before he was killed, and we loved each other every moment of each year.”

 

“And your grandmother?” Wesley asked, almost afraid to broach the question. She had lost so many—

 

“Alive and well,” she replied, reading his fear. “She still visits, and I still visit her, though not as often as we used to.”

 

Wesley frowned, suddenly wanting to ask another question, wanting to postpone telling his own story for a while longer. His own tale was not less painful than hers, in its own way, and yet he suddenly couldn’t see walking away from this dinner, and this woman, for good. And Wesley did not want to have her think less of him, reveal his many faults so quickly. “You don’t have to tell me anything at all, if you don’t want to,” Nika suddenly said, reading his face.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Wesley replied, bracing himself. Slowly, he told her about his parents, about his training, about being one of the youngest ever to be selected as Watcher over an active Slayer. It was easy enough to be impassive about those things; they were long in the past. It was when he began to tell her how he’d come to L.A. and started working with Angel that he found himself unable to go on. Even if a year had passed, the wounds caused by his own betrayal of Angel, and the group’s abandonment of him, had not healed.

 

“What happened?” Nika asked when he stopped. She could see the carefully controlled pain in his eyes and knew that as happy as he might have been, it was gone now.

 

He shook his head. “I made a blunder that cost a friend his son. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing, but I miscalculated badly.”

 

“And that’s why you’re an independent contractor now,” Nika finished for him sympathetically. “Who was your friend?”

 

“Angel,” Wesley replied. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Angel Investigations, but—”

 

She nodded knowingly. “The vampire with a soul? I’ve heard of him—from Danny and Spike both. I don’t think Danny knew what to think about him, and Spike certainly isn’t particularly sympathetic.”

 

“They have a long history together,” Wesley half-explained, relieved that he didn’t have to put his experiences into words just yet. Perhaps someday he’d be able to, but not now.

 

Nika stood abruptly. “Would you like some tea? I can promise you the real thing.”

 

Encouraged by the superb meal, Wesley nodded. “Please.”

 

She made tea the right way, he saw, using the loose leaf, rather than the bags. The aroma of the brew awakened his senses, reminded him again of how long it had been since he’d had a real cuppa. It had been too long, really. He’d almost forgotten how it smelled, how it tasted. He took a sip, the flavor easing down his throat, warming him from the inside. So little warmed him these days, not like Nika’s meal and tea had.

 

There was a bang from the front door, and Nika smiled fondly. “That will be Spike. He always manages to be here in time for dessert.”

 

Spike sauntered into the kitchen, and looked around at the repast. “I see you put out quite a spread, luv,” he commented, going to the fridge for his own meal.

 

Nika shrugged. “You know I like to cook.”

 

“And I don’t make nearly as appreciative an audience as the Watcher here,” he replied knowingly, looking over at Wesley. The two men stared at each other for a moment, testing the waters, trying to decide if the other was an interloper.

 

The silence stretched on, and Nika finally stood and gave Spike a gentle shove over towards the table. “Sit and eat your meal, Spike,” she ordered. “I was just about to get dessert out.”

 

“Right on time as usual, yeah?” he asked, easing himself down into the seat. Wesley noticed that he was still favoring the right leg, though not as much as the night before.

 

“How’s your leg?” he finally asked the vampire, the glimmer of an idea beginning in his brain. His problem, at least as an independent contractor, stemmed from the fact that he had to do it all: research, find clients, destroy the target. There were a few people he could call on, if he needed, but it wasn’t on a regular basis, and he didn’t always have the money to keep them around. Back when Angel had left the team during his Darla troubles, Wesley had had Gunn and Cordelia to back him up. He was on his own now, and there were times when it put him in more danger than he liked.

 

Spike gave him a suspicious look, but finally decided to answer. “’s fine. I was a bit tired last night. It’s always worse when ‘m tired.”

 

“Then you would have no objection to lending me a hand tonight?” Wesley asked. “I could use your help.”

 

“What’s in it for me?” Spike challenged him. He might have offered his services the night before, but that didn’t mean he was ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. After thinking about his offer, the vampire had realized that he’d put himself in a position to be used again, any time the Watcher needed more muscle. Spike had promised he wouldn’t put himself in that position again.

 

Wesley hesitated. “I’ll give you 25% of what I make from the job.”

 

Spike thought about it. That really wasn’t much, depending on how much Wesley got paid. On the other hand, it was a percentage, not a flat fee, which meant that his pay was dependent upon the Watcher’s. It seemed more fair, somehow, and Spike liked the idea of fair compensation. “Alright. What’s the job?”

 

Nika plopped the plate of cookies down in front of both of them. “Go on,” she encouraged. “You can eat and talk at the same time, and I know I don’t need any more sweets.” She started clearing the plates from the table.

 

Wesley stood as though to help. “I should—”

 

“You should sit and finish your conversation,” she said firmly. “Tonight, you’re my guest. Next time, I’ll put you to work.”

 

Wesley stared at her, something in his chest loosening as he realized that she wanted to have him return. Silently, he cautioned himself. It was the same feeling he’d had when Angel and Cordelia had begun including him in their group. He didn’t need that again. He couldn’t afford to go through that again. “Very well,” he finally said, turning back to Spike. “There’s some information I need, but the person who has it frequents a place where humans aren’t welcome. I’d go anyway, but if I don’t have to, it’s just as well.”

 

Spike nodded slowly. “So you want me to beat somebody up for you?” He sounded almost hopeful.

 

Wesley smiled. “Only if you want to.”

 

~~~~~

 

He waited outside the bar for much longer than made him comfortable. Wesley had sent Spike in an hour before, and the vampire still hadn’t come out, either with his information, or with the pay-off money. Worry began to creep in as to the general wisdom of trusting an unsouled, unchipped vampire with his money or his business.

 

He needn’t have been concerned, however. A few seconds after he’d made up his mind to go in after Spike, the vampire came strolling out the door, looking very smug. “Your guy’s name is Otto. Calls himself the German. He’s the one that’s been pullin’ off all the robberies, an’ he’s using the proceeds to fund his empire.”

 

Wesley’s eyes narrowed. “And it took you an hour to get that information?”

 

“Hey,” Spike said, raising his hands. “You didn’t give me a time frame, so don’t get your knickers in a twist, Watcher. You want to get all pansy-arsed on me, you can do it yourself next time.”

 

Spike was rather surprised to find himself flattened against the wall of the building, Wesley’s forearm at his throat. It wasn’t like he needed to breathe, but it was still uncomfortable. “My arse is not pansy,” Wesley said, very calmly.

 

“No, it’s not,” Spike said agreeably, deciding to humor the Watcher. Never mind that he could rip the man’s throat out before he even knew what happened; he found himself feeling a grudging sort of respect.

 

“And stop calling me ‘Watcher,’” Wesley continued more irritably, letting Spike go. “That’s not what I am anymore.”

 

There was silence as Spike considered his request. “An’ what do you want me to call you?”

 

“Wesley will be just fine,” he replied.

 

Spike never used people’s names. It had everything to do with the fact that names rarely said anything about the person in question, or how he felt about that person. The nicknames he used said both, however, and to be asked to use someone’s given name was a little difficult. But he’d asked, and the Wa—Wesley had answered, and Spike missed the camaraderie that came with fighting side by side with a person.

 

He’d always liked a good fight, solo or on a team, it didn’t really matter. Spike had become used to fighting with the Slayer and her Scoobies, though, and he liked having another person there to hear his quips and react to his moves. It seemed like Wesley was the one he was going to be stuck with if he wanted to make hunting a team sport.

 

And maybe it said something about the man that Spike was actually willing to use his given name. “Fine. Wesley.”

 

“So why did it take you so long?” Wesley asked.

 

Spike shrugged. “Nobody was in the mood to talk, so I had to use some persuasion.” Wesley could see a bruise beginning to form along Spike’s jaw. “Nothin’ to get upset about. Besides, I saved you some money.” He pulled out the cash Wesley had given him and pressed it into his hand.

 

Wesley regarded the cash thoughtfully before he pocketed it, then looked at Spike, who had an expectant look on his face. “You did say you wanted some action,” he said, looking at the vampire. “Want to pay a visit to Otto with me?”

 

“Sounds like fun, mate,” Spike replied, smiling.

 

Neither of them ever really acknowledged it, but that night was the beginning of their friendship. Wesley might have saved Spike and Nika the previous evening, but Spike returned the favor when Otto (a rather nasty Dralik demon) tried to rip Wesley’s entrails out with his bare claws. The rents that would have been in skin and muscle appeared in Spike’s leather jacket instead, and Wesley managed to put a bullet in the demon’s head from his position on the ground, under Spike.

 

As they stood over the dead body, Spike looked over at him. “You mean you actually get paid for this kind of thing?”

 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Wesley asked, thinking that Spike probably found this work more like play than anything else.

 

The vampire shook his head. “When I think of all the dosh the Slayer missed out on…” He trailed off, and an expression crossed his face that Wesley could not read.

 

“Is that why you left Sunnydale?” the man asked softly. “Because of the Slayer?”

 

“Something like that,” Spike admitted. He suddenly turned to look at Wesley, wanting to tell somebody who would understand, who would see that what had happened mattered. “We were—involved, yeah? An’ then she beat me to a bloody pulp because I wouldn’t let her turn herself into the cops, an’ I left. I had no reason to stay after that, knowin’ she’d leave me to die without a backwards look.”

 

Wesley looked back at the dead demon. “If it makes you feel any better, Angel tried to kill me.”

 

They shared a look, and then they both smiled, an expression that had long been missing from their faces. “Well, if Peaches tried to kill you, you must be alright, mate,” Spike said.

 

And that was how it all started. With two endings.


	6. October 2005

“So?” Dawn asked, as she flopped down on Spike’s couch. She usually stayed the night on Thursdays when she came over. It was a nice change from being in the dorms, and if Spike wasn’t around, she and Nika usually hung out. Nights like this, coming back covered in grime and demon guts, it was probably better she not be seen by anyone on campus.

 

“So what?” he asked, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. Dawn had already taken her shower, and Spike was just finishing up. He emerged in a cloud of steam, wearing only a pair of worn blue jeans.

 

“So what did you think of Connor?” Dawn said, rolling her eyes at his obtuseness.

 

He shrugged. “Boy seemed alright, ‘specially considerin’ who his father is.”

 

“You liked him, then?” Spike looked over at her and realized that his opinion really did matter to her. She wanted him to like Connor, and she wanted his approval.

 

His expression softened. “Yeah, Nibblet. He seemed like a good kid. He’s not good enough for you, but then, who would be?”

 

She broke into a huge grin. “I’m glad you like him. It’s not like we can really hang out at the hotel or anything, so it’ll be nice to have somewhere else we can go.”

 

“You thinkin’ of coming here?” Spike asked, a little alarmed. This house, this basement, seemed like a sanctuary, a place that was his and Dawn’s alone.

 

She laughed. “Only when we can’t go to the dorms or something. You know, if my roommate won’t clear out. I mean, we can be at the hotel, but Angel and company still think we’re just friends.” Dawn rolled her eyes again, this time demonstrating her opinion of Angel’s cluelessness. “I think Connor’s going to try and get his own place soon, though. I mean, he’s definitely old enough.”

 

That didn’t sound quite right to Spike either. The thought of Dawn and her boyfriend—any boy really—alone in said boy’s apartment—“Dawn, you know—”

 

“Don’t say it,” she warned him. “I’m eighteen, and I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

 

Spike sighed. “Fine. Just—I don’t want to know, alright? He seems like a decent kid, but if he lays a finger on you, I’ll have to rip it off.”

 

Dawn laughed. She was long used to Spike’s expressions of violence and was no longer fazed, if she ever had been. “Right, Spike. You know, that threat worked just as well the first time you used it.”

 

“He didn’t bother you again, did he?” the vampire asked with a smirk.

 

Dawn stared at him. “You—you came up. I thought—” She stopped. It had been her junior year in high school, and one of the jocks had asked her on a date. Everything had gone just fine until the little prick had tried to pull a move on her. In classic Summers’ fashion, Dawn had put a stop to that, but by the next day, he’d started spreading rumors that she was easy, and had given it up to him right away.

 

Dawn hadn’t wanted to tell Buffy because she didn’t want her sister to think she couldn’t take care of herself. Plus, Steve had just left, and her sister was still upset over that. She’d written Spike a letter, and he told her to let him know if the teasing didn’t die down, because he’d happily come up and rip the boy’s balls off.

 

The teasing had stopped, life had gone on, but she had no clue that Spike had anything to do with that. “What did you do?” she asked.

 

“Flashed some fang, told him if you weren’t happy, I’d make his life miserable.” Spike grinned at her. “What? You thought I wouldn’t do it?”

 

She leaned back against the couch. “I didn’t see you!” she protested.

 

“Way it had to be, luv,” Spike said quietly. “I didn’t want Buffy to see me, so I kept a low profile. Just found him, scared the shit out of him, and left. Wasn’t even in Sunnydale two hours.”

 

She shook her head. “Spike, do you—I mean, are you still in love with Buffy? Are you happy?”

 

“Sure I’m happy, Sweet Bit,” he replied, pulling her head down to rest on his shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be? I can live without the Slayer.”

 

“But you’re still Love’s Bitch,” Dawn said, hearing the emotion in his voice, in spite of Spike’s attempts to hide it. She’d wondered for a while now, how he was really doing. Spike put up a good front, most of the time, and Dawn had no doubt that he managed to hide his true feelings from everybody else. But she had spent an entire summer with him, while they both mourned for Buffy, and that was still the Spike she knew. Even though her sister was alive, Spike was still mourning her.

 

He sighed. “You know me too well. S’pose I always will be,” Spike admitted quietly. “And I’m still man enough to admit it.”

 

Dawn didn’t say anything else. She ached for him, and could only offer the comfort of her presence.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was rather melancholy the next morning after Dawn had left. He loved having the Nibblet around, of course, but it was easier to forget about Buffy when she wasn’t there as a constant reminder. It had been the same way the summer that the Slayer was—gone. Spike could have easily spent the entire 147 days in a bottle or in a fight, just to try and forget her. He couldn’t do that and keep his promise, however, and so he had lived with Dawn’s presence the same way you live with a toothache. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to forget, and he’d welcomed the reminder.

 

Now, however—well, now the best times were when he and Wesley were going after a demon, when every fiber of his being had to be focused on the event at hand, rather than on lost chances and lost loves. It wasn’t that he wanted to think of Buffy all the time, but Spike couldn’t get her out of his head. He wondered how she was doing, what she had made of her life, was she even happy to _be_ alive…

 

Angrily, he rose from the couch and started pacing. There had to be something he could do, but he’d already asked Nika. She knew all about blessings and curses from her grandmother, and if anyone could have helped him forget the Slayer, it would have been her. Instead, she’d simply told him that the only cure was time, and there really wasn’t anything she could do for him. Spike didn’t actually blame her. Nika had explained that there were a couple curses she could do, but the consequences could be fairly grievous, like not remembering any of the Scoobies, including Dawn. He hadn’t wanted that.

 

And as she’d pointed out, if she had something to take away the pain of a broken heart, she would have used it on herself just as quickly as on someone else. The only cure possible was time, and that—unfortunately—was something Spike had all too much of.

 

With an angry growl, he slammed his fist into the punching bag that hung in the center of the room. Nika had gotten it for him for Christmas, after he’d punched the concrete wall one too many times. He hit it again, his fists repeatedly ramming into the bag, until his knuckles were scraped and he left smears of blood on the canvas.

 

“You know, I got that bag for you so you didn’t have to bang yourself up every time you lost your temper,” Nika said from behind him.

 

Spike turned, surprised. She so rarely came down without an invitation, that it was something of a shock. “What are you—”

 

“I heard the banging, and I thought I’d come check on you,” she replied softly. “Look, I’m sorry for intruding. I could—”

 

She turned to go, and he put a hand on her arm. “No, ‘s alright, luv. Stay. Maybe you can keep me from doin’ any more damage to myself.”

 

Nika took one of his hands and inspected the scrapes. “They aren’t bad. You’ll probably be half-healed before I could get back down here with my first-aid kit.”

 

“Vampire,” he replied. “One of the advantages, anyway.” He let her lead him over to the couch. She sat close to him, leaning her head on his chest. They were both very tactile people. One of the hardest things for her, after her husband died, was that there was so very little physical affection. Spike needed the physical proximity as much as she did, however, and they had been able to comfort each other a bit.

 

He held her close, thinking of how rarely he’d been able to do this with anyone since Drusilla. Although the vampiress hadn’t been into comfort-touch as much as pain. He sighed.

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

“I’m thinkin’ that this is right nice, Sweet.” Spike hadn’t realized how badly Buffy and her friends treated him until he met Nika, and later, Wesley. Though both of them had every reason to hate vampires, they treated him like a human being, and expected him to act like one. No longer was he constantly reminded that he was some sort of evil thing. And it was that respect that demanded he give them respect in return.

 

He could admit to himself that it was no longer not wanting Buffy to be right that kept him from hunting, it was thinking about what Wesley or Nika would say if they found out he had fed. It was knowing how badly Nika had been hurt by having vampires snack on her loved ones—knowing that he would be hurting someone else just as badly. Spike had never really understood how you could care about people you’d never met—he still couldn’t. What he could do was very clearly picture the disappointment on Nika’s face, someone who had never treated him with anything but kindness. He wouldn’t do that to her.

 

“Are you really okay, _cariad_?” she asked quietly. “I know you still miss her.”

 

“Every damn day,” he admitted. “When am I bloody well goin’ to get over her?” Spike demanded. “How long does it take to get someone out of your head? ‘s been three years, an’ she treated me like crap for all but about two of the days we were together.”

 

Nika leaned in closer, as much for his comfort as her own. Spike was such a solid sort of person, even though most would never know it to see him. Once he counted you as his to protect, however, heaven forbid someone cause you problems. He would take on the whole world for someone he loved, for “his humans” as he called them.

 

“I don’t know, Spike,” she said. “Everybody’s different. It’s okay that it’s taking you a while. I know it may not feel okay, but it is.”

 

He gave a bitter little laugh. “I don’t want to get over her, Nika-luv. She was—she was my whole damn world.”

 

“I know,” Nika said. “I know.”

 

Spike swallowed hard and pulled her closer. “An’ what about you, luv? You still miss him?”

 

“Every damn day,” Nika said, echoing his words from earlier. “But less. It’s changed—the pain has. I miss him, but it’s not the same as it was. Maybe that’s the difference between being human and being a vampire—time moves differently for us, faster. We don’t have the luxury of not being able to let go if we want to live.”

 

“Maybe,” Spike said. “I was with Dru for over a hundred years. Stayed faithful to her all that time. She was my black goddess, my ripe wicked plum. She was my everything.”

 

“Then maybe it’ll just take you a little longer to get over Buffy. How long did it take you with Drusilla?” Nika asked.

 

Spike thought about that for a moment, and then said, “A couple years, I s’pose. At least that. Wasn’t until I figured out I was in love with the Slayer that I realized I wasn’t in love with Dru anymore.”

 

“Then maybe you just need to meet some nice girl that will take your mind off her,” Nika suggested with a sly grin.

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Some nice girl like you?” he queried. “’f I remember right, that didn’t go so well for either one of us.”

 

“Oh, it went well enough. It’s just the feeling wasn’t there. Neither one of us was ready to move on,” she replied. “You’d be a catch for anyone, Spike.”

 

“If you can ignore the fact that I don’t go out in the daylight, avoid mirrors, and drink blood, yeah,” he replied sarcastically.

 

“Oh, don’t be that way,” Nika scolded. “Trust me. Good men are rare enough that a girl would overlook those quirks in a heartbeat.”

 

“Which I don’t have,” he pointed out.

 

“You’re faithful, intelligent—even though you’d hardly know it—and loyal, that’s a lot,” Nika said.

 

Spike smiled at her. “You have a way of makin’ a bloke feel better, you know that?” When her only reply was a smug smile, he went on. “But I asked about you, luv. You ready to be movin’ on yet?”

 

Nika tried to pull away from him, but Spike tightened his grip, keeping it gentle. “Luv, ‘s all right to move on, be happy. Everythin’ you’ve told me about him says he’d want that.”

 

“He would,” she sighed, giving up. Spike wasn’t going to let it go until she talked about it. Persistence was a good thing, but it could grate on a person as well. “I don’t know, Spike. I think I could fall in love again, but—I promised myself when Danny died that I wouldn’t fall in love with another man who had a dangerous profession.”

 

“And you fancy Wesley,” he said, prodding her to go on when she paused.

 

Nika sighed. “I’m already half in love with him. He’s completely different than Danny, but he has all the same qualities that I admire in a man. And his profession is about as dangerous as they come. I won’t ask him to give that up. He wouldn’t be Wesley if he did.”

 

Spike gave her shoulders a squeeze. “He’s got me lookin’ after him. That counts for somethin’, right?”

 

“That counts for a lot,” she assured him. “I just—I don’t know if he really likes me or not. I know he’s had heart troubles of his own, and I don’t want…”

 

“You’ve got to take a chance if you want to know,” Spike pointed out.

 

“Unless you told me,” Nika said, turning so she could look him in the face. “Has he said anything to you?”

 

Spike shook his head. “Now, luv, you know that’s somethin’ I can’t tell you. It’d be betrayin’ a confidence, an’ that’s just evil.” He grinned at her. “Of course, I never pretended not to be a little evil still.”

 

“So he does like me?” Nika asked. “Really? I—What am I going to do?”

 

“What do you want to do?”

 

Nika fell back against his shoulder. “I don’t know, Spike. I really don’t know. I want—I like him. You know that. And I’m scared of losing someone I love again. All I ever wanted, since I was a little girl, was to be a midwife, get married, have kids, take care of people. I know it’s silly and old fashioned, but that’s what I dreamed of. And now—”

 

“And if you fall in love with Wesley, you think you’ll have to give that dream up?” Spike asked.

 

Nika shook her head. “Wesley’s not the ‘get married, have a couple kids’ kind of guy. I don’t even think he believes he’ll live long enough to get around to it.”

 

“Or, he doesn’t think he deserves it,” Spike suggested softly. He had come to know the former Watcher quite well over the past couple years, and he knew that Wesley presented a strong front. Inside, however, he seemed to have a strong belief that he had little to nothing to offer someone. If you wanted a guy to translate a text, or kill a demon, you called on Wesley; if you wanted a boyfriend, he didn’t think himself worthy of the honor.

 

Nika’s eyes lit up with indignation. “Of course, he deserves it. I mean, he’d—” She stopped. “You’re telling me I’m going to have to make the first move, aren’t you?”

 

He grinned at her. “Nothin’ like a girl comin’ onto a bloke to give him a nice wake-up call, but yeah. If you go for it, he’ll fall in line. But Wesley needs a bit of encouragement.” Spike gave her a pat on the shoulder. “You let me know when, an’ I’ll clear out for you two.”

Nika rolled her eyes at him. “And what about you? You deserve a little happiness too, Spike.”

 

“Maybe one of these days,” he replied, not quite meeting her eyes. “Maybe someday, luv. ‘Til then, I’ll just have to settle for seein’ my friends happy.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn entered her dorm room and tossed her backpack on the bed. She was lucky she and her roommate didn’t see much of each other, she supposed. After hearing Buffy’s horror story about her first college roommate, Dawn had no desire to repeat history. So far, however, Miranda was usually gone while she was here (with her boyfriend, of course), or Dawn made herself scarce while Miranda was using the room.

 

The red light on the answering machine was blinking, telling her that someone had left a message. Dawn hit the play button, and started unloading her pack as she listened. “Hey, Dawn. It’s your sister. Look, I don’t want to bug you, but if you get a chance, could you call me? It’s kinda important. Love you.”

 

There was a long beep as the message rewound, and Dawn quickly hit the delete button. Sighing, she tried to figure out if she really wanted to call Buffy, or if she wanted to pretend to be too busy and call later. She was still a little upset with her sister after her talk with Spike earlier. It wasn’t that Spike wanted her to not like Buffy—hardly. It was just that every time Dawn talked to her, she remembered Spike’s face that day in his crypt, the day he’d left. She remembered how bruised he’d been. And she remembered that yet another person had left her, and that this time it was because of Buffy. It had been hard to feel close to her after that.

 

It had been hard to _want_ to feel close.

 

But Buffy was her sister, her only real family, even though Spike, Nika, and Wesley were a family of sorts, a home away from home. Spike and his friends were the only reason that Dawn didn’t feel completely alone in L.A. Even if her dad was supposed to be here, he never was. She hadn’t even seen Hank since she’d come to school. Nika kept her stocked up with home-baked goodies, however, and Spike played the big brother to the hilt. Even Wesley was beginning to warm up and smile more than once or twice a night. Because of them, she really didn’t miss Sunnydale at all.

 

Still, she kept coming back to the fact that Buffy was her sister.

 

Dawn picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number. It was probably better to find out what was going on sooner, rather than later. With Buffy’s luck, it would be an apocalypse of some kind.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy picked up the phone on the first ring, hoping it was Dawn. She hadn’t spoken with any of her friends yet. She’d had a day and a night to think about it, and hadn’t slept at all in between. Being pregnant was something to get used to, for sure, but it had made her think, made her re-evaluate a number of things.

 

The funny thing was, thinking about it, she didn’t regret Peter leaving at all. Buffy realized that she’d always known he would go, at a certain level. It had nothing to do with thinking that all guys left, but realizing that she’d been using Peter, just as much as he’d been using her. Getting pregnant hadn’t been in the plans, but she would deal.

 

No, looking back over the past three years, Buffy didn’t really regret any of the guys she’d dated leaving. They had been stand-ins, fillers to scratch an itch and take her mind off things. Mostly nice guys who had wanted her as much as she wanted them. In dating them, she’d avoided all the pitfalls she’d had with Riley. Never again did she want to get involved with someone who loved her more than she loved him.

 

What she regretted most was a particular night in an alley, and a particular guy leaving. Buffy could admit—now—that Spike had loved her, had been in love with her. He had done everything in his power to do all that she had asked of him. If staying around and looking after a dead woman’s sister wasn’t proof positive, Buffy didn’t know what was anymore.

 

And she missed him. There, in her bed, sleepless, three months pregnant and three years too late, Buffy could finally admit that she missed him. He had loved her, and she had beaten him to a bloody pulp and left him in an alley, little caring if he was still there when the sun came up.

 

When she thought of those nights in his crypt, when all he did was sit with her, when he was the only one who could soothe her—

 

Buffy had cried. She’d cried all night, and had somehow come to a conclusion during that time. Falling asleep around daybreak, she woke and immediately called Dawn, knowing from experience that her sister was never in her dorm on Thursday night. Dawn needed to know about Peter, and the baby that was coming. Buffy needed to know what Dawn knew about Spike.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Buffy,” Dawn said. “You said you wanted to talk to me. It isn’t another apocalypse, right? Because midterms are coming up.” 

 

Buffy hesitated. Now that she was actually talking to her sister, she wasn’t sure what to say or how to begin. “Yeah, uh, you know, it probably isn’t that important…” She stopped. “I—Peter left.”

 

“Oh.” Dawn couldn’t say she was disappointed about that. She’d never liked Peter. “Well, do you want me to come up this weekend? If you need me to, I will.”

 

Buffy laughed a little. “No, I’m really okay, Dawnie. A little disappointed maybe, but okay. Peter was a jerk.”

 

“Well, I won’t argue with you,” Dawn said, relieved. She’d planned on spending the weekend studying and seeing Connor in her free time. “But you’re doing all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” Buffy assured her again. “There’s something else though. The reason we broke up, I mean.” There was a long pause, in which Dawn started feeling a little anxious. “I’m pregnant.”

 

Buffy waited for her sister’s reaction. “You’re what?” Dawn asked. “Buffy—wait. Peter left because you got pregnant? What a bastard!”

 

The Slayer didn’t even bother telling Dawn to watch her language. “I know. We’ve agreed, though. I don’t ask him for any support, and he has no right to interfere in any way. It’s fair. I’d rather not have him in my life if he’s not even going to be interested in the baby. I think it’ll be better in the long run.”

 

Both sisters were thinking of their largely-absentee father, and Dawn voiced her agreement. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Have you told anybody yet? Giles, or the rest of the gang?”

 

“No, you’re the first,” Buffy replied. “I wanted you to know. I’m planning on calling Giles tomorrow, when the time matches up a little better, and I’ll tell Willow and Xander next time I see them.”

 

Dawn was quiet. She felt honored that Buffy would want her to be the first to know, and a little guilty about her impatience with her sister earlier. “What are you going to do about the Slaying?”

 

“I don’t know,” Buffy confessed. “I’ll have to get help, I suppose. The Hellmouth has been fairly quiet now for a while, so maybe I’ll get a break for once.”

 

Dawn sat down on her bed heavily, thinking about what Buffy had just told her. This wasn’t going to work. If Buffy was still the Slayer, even after the baby was born, she’d need someone around to look after the kid. “Maybe I should think about transferring to U.C. Sunnydale,” she said slowly, hating herself for even suggesting it. She didn’t want to go back to Sunnydale. “I mean, you’ll probably need someone there to help out, and—”

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Buffy replied firmly. “You’ve got a good thing going  in L.A., Dawnie. I’ll be fine here. We’ll figure something out.”

 

Dawn was doubly relieved, both that Buffy wouldn’t have let her move, and that she didn’t have to feel guilty for not offering. “Okay.”

 

Buffy hesitated, and then said, “Do you think I could come down and see you? Not this weekend, but maybe next? There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

“What else?” Dawn asked, wondering what the next big revelation was going to be.

 

“It’s about Spike,” Buffy said slowly. “I was wondering if you knew where he was.”

 

Dawn knew the rules. Spike had been very specific about not telling Buffy where he was unless she asked. He hadn’t said that she had to tell the Slayer anything, however, and Dawn was feeling rather protective of Spike at the moment. Her sister had gotten a lot better over the last few years, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t wind up beating the shit out of him again. Dawn wasn’t about to let that happen.

 

“Why do you want to know, Buffy?” Dawn asked.

 

Buffy sighed. “I know he’s been writing to you. I just—I’ve just been thinking about him a lot lately. I—I want to know if he’s okay.”

 

“You couldn’t have asked earlier?” Dawn demanded, built-up anger spilling out. “Buffy, it’s been three years, and after what you did to him, I’m not sure I should tell you where he is.”

 

Buffy swallowed hard. “I know. I—if I gave you a letter, could you get it to him? I want to—I want to apologize. Thinking about Spike, and thinking about everything else that’s gone on, I just realized how badly…” She trailed off. She did want to apologize, even though she hated having to say she was sorry. What do you say to someone that you did _that_ to, anyway?

 

“He’s in L.A.,” Dawn said, making a decision. She didn’t know what Buffy’s motives were for finally getting her head out of her ass, but Spike still wasn’t over her sister. And it was obvious that her sister still thought about Spike. “I won’t tell you where, but I can get a letter or something to him.”

 

“Is he doing okay?” Buffy asked, suddenly wanting to know. Wanting to know if he’d gotten over her, wanting to know if he was happy.

 

Dawn sighed. “He’s okay, Buffy. You might as well know he’s got the chip out.”

 

“He’s not hunting, is he?” Buffy asked in a rather small voice.

 

“No, he’s not hunting, not humans anyway. He’s helping Wesley kill demons and he lives in a lady’s basement. It’s a pretty nice place.” Dawn paused. “I still see him about once a week, or more.”

 

Buffy tried to digest that bit of news. Spike had the chip out, he wasn’t feeding, and he was still killing demons. With Wesley, no less. “Wesley, my ex-Watcher?”

 

“Yeah,” Dawn replied, warming up to the subject a little. “You know he isn’t with Angel anymore, right? He and Spike work together now. I think they’re doing pretty good. And Wes is getting pretty attached to Nika—that’s Spike’s landlord. I was over there last night. Nika’s cool. Her house is kind of a home away from home.”

 

Buffy could hear the happiness in her sister’s voice, and she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. It sounded as though Dawn had made a place for herself in L.A., some place that wasn’t Sunnydale, that wasn’t with her. She knew she really didn’t have anyone to blame but herself, but she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. “I’m glad.”

 

Dawn could hear the disappointment in her sister’s voice. She sighed. If Buffy was going to come up next weekend, she’d find out anyway—in for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m also dating somebody.”

 

“Who?”

 

“His name’s Connor. He’s Angel’s son.”

 

Buffy suddenly felt numb. “How? _When?_ Dawn, how old—”

 

“He’s twenty, two years older than me,” Dawn explained quickly. “He was born a few years ago, actually, and then he got sent to this Hell dimension, where time moves differently, so he came back already grown up. That’s why Wesley’s not with Angel anymore. He had something to do with why Connor got taken, but it really wasn’t completely his fault. There was a prophecy, but it was fake, and he didn’t know, and then this guy—Holtz—took Connor to get to Angel, and—”

 

“Stop, Dawn,” Buffy said, and she suddenly sounded like General Buffy, which she only did in the middle of emergencies and apocalypses. “I didn’t get most of that, but I’ll be up next weekend. At which point, you can tell me the whole story, including details on what Connor is like. And what Spike is up to.” The Slayer sighed. At this point, she didn’t give a damn if Spike was feeding on people. He probably wouldn’t have even tried to get the chip out if it weren’t for her. Her sister sounded happy, Spike was okay. That was all that mattered.

 

“If I send you a letter for him, will you make sure he gets it?” Buffy asked.

 

Dawn didn’t need to ask who Buffy was referring to. “Yeah. I’ll give it to him.” Suddenly, sisterly loyalty took over, and Dawn blurted out, “Buffy—he still misses you. I don’t know if that means anything, but he still misses you.”

 

“I miss him, too,” Buffy replied. She suddenly wanted to cry again. She missed him so much, and she’d burned every bridge.


	7. September 2002

**Part II: Reunions**

**“It’s funny how/Even now/You still support me after all of the things that I’ve done/You’re so good to me/Waiting patiently/And isn’t it sad that you still have to ask if I care?/I never said I was perfect/But I can take you away/Walk on shells tonight/Can’t do right tonight/ And you can’t say a word/Cause I leap down your throat/So uptight am I/I never said I was perfect/But I can drive you home/I got down on myself/Working too hard/Driving myself to death/Trying to beat out the faults in my head/What a mess I’ve made/Sure we all make mistakes/But they see me so large that they think I’m immune/to the pain/I’m praying for a miracle/But I won’t hold my breath/I never said I was perfect/But can you drive me home.” ~Garbage, “Drive You Home”**

**Chapter 7: September 2002**

 

Nika couldn’t have said why she wasn’t surprised when Spike turned up on her doorstep again. She felt close to him, in a way—the way you felt connected to someone after sharing body fluids and near death experiences. In her case, it was both at the same time.

 

She shouldn’t have felt anything but antipathy for the vampire—first because of what he was, and second because he’d tried to kill her. Sort of. Really, she’d quite literally asked for it. But it wasn’t about being friends, or replacing a dead husband, or losing yourself in a new lover. In the end, it was about understanding pain and recognizing scars. It was about understanding what it meant to lose everything that made you what you were, and still choosing to live.

 

So when Spike showed up on her doorstep, three nights after he had left, with a split lip and a black eye, Nika didn’t say anything at all. You attempted small talk with people you didn’t feel comfortable with, or that you didn’t know well enough. Somehow, she knew this vampire better than she’d known her husband. She recognized him on a visceral level.

 

Spike wasn’t sure what her response was going to be when he knocked on her door. He didn’t know if she would slam it shut in his face or invite him in. He wasn’t even sure why he was back here, except that he was tired and hurt. And he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, wondering if she hadn’t found some other novel way to kill herself. The level of relief that flooded him, seeing her alive and well, was a surprise.

 

He had promised himself that he wasn’t going to care about anyone ever again.

 

Neither one of them spoke as Spike followed her into the kitchen, the strong smell of alcohol hanging around him in a miasma. He sat down in one of her kitchen chairs, watching as she went to the cupboard above the stove, pulling out a large plastic container full of gauze, antibacterial solution, and band-aids.

 

She dabbed gently at the cut on his lip, cleaning off the blood. With gentle fingers, she tested the bruise around his eye, trying to make sure that no bones had been broken around the socket. “’m okay,” he said suddenly into the silence, a response to her tender probing. “Vampire, you know? We heal quickly.”

 

“It doesn’t mean that there couldn’t be damage to the eye,” Nika replied. “How’s your arm, and leg?”

 

“Fine. Same, really.” Spike looked at her hopefully. “You wouldn’t happen to have any alcohol would you?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you had enough to drink already?”

 

“Takes a lot to do anything for me,” Spike replied.

 

There was a long pause as they considered each other. “What brought you back?” Nika asked.

 

“Dunno,” Spike said. Then he went for the truth. “You were nice to me.”

 

“Is that so strange?”

 

It was a legitimate question. For all the heartache Nika had experienced, she’d never had a problem with people treating her badly. In her experience, other than with the vampires who had eaten her loved ones, most folks were generally nice. And really, she didn’t blame the vampires. They might be evil, but it was like blaming a cat for killing mice. If you liked mice, you didn’t keep a cat around. If you didn’t want to be eaten, you were careful about who you invited in and carried a cross and stake. If you hunted vampires, you knew the risks you took.

 

It had taken her a while to come to that conclusion. Her _nain_ had helped. After her parents were killed, Nika had understood that _nain’s_ stories about vampires weren’t just fairy tales. The monsters that came out after dark were real, terribly, terribly real. But hatred, _nain_ had always said, sapped your own strength, more than anything else. Anger, resolution, even pain, could make you strong, but hatred made you weaker.

 

Hating things that were only doing what they were meant to do, didn’t do anybody any good. _Nain_ had told her to save her anger for something that mattered, for true evil. True evil meant humans who disregarded everything they knew to be right to hurt innocents. That understanding might have been why Spike being a vampire didn’t matter so much to her. The fact that Spike hadn’t killed her meant much more.

 

Spike considered her question, and finally said. “Yeah. For me, someone bein’ nice is a bit of a new experience.”

 

Nika shook her head, not really surprised, but at the same time she was. It was in the eyes, she realized. The eyes had been what drew her in, expressive eyes that screamed pain. His eyes were the kind that made women want to take him home, give him cookies and milk, and make certain he was going to be okay.

 

But maybe that was just Nika and her highly developed maternal instinct.

 

In spite of Spike’s already slightly inebriated state, she went to the cupboard and pulled out the bottle of whiskey that Danny had saved for especially hard nights. Nika also grabbed the bottle of red wine she had been saving for their anniversary. They would have been married nine years in another month.

 

She handed the bottle to the vampire. “Do you need a glass?”

 

“No, not really,” Spike replied. “Not unless you mind me drinkin’ the whole thing.”

 

Nika shrugged. “If you feel the need.” She pulled out one of her seldom-used glasses, though she didn’t think it mattered if she drank the whole bottle. It would be better than letting it go to waste, and there were usually only a few glasses anyway. (Perfect for sharing, getting a little tipsy, and then having anniversary sex.)

 

By unspoken agreement, they moved the party into the living room, each of them with their own bottle, and Nika with her glass. Spike took a couple of swallows, and she watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I didn’t know vampires drank anything other than blood,” she said suddenly.

 

He shrugged. “Alcohol’s always nice, yeah? ‘specially when you need to drown your sorrows or escape for a bit. An’ I like people food too. Like those spicy buffalo wings.”

 

Nika wanted to laugh, and she hadn’t laughed for days. Something about the picture of a vampire, who was supposed to be a fierce hunter, drinking whiskey and eating spicy wings… It was an image that certainly didn’t lead to fear. “What else do you like?”

 

Spike was just drunk enough to answer her questions without much caring about the answers he gave. There was something about being in this cozy little house with a woman he’d tried to drain a few nights previously that was so surreal, it was unbelievable. It was as though he were living a dream, and it actually felt a hell of a lot better than his nightmarish reality.

 

“Bloomin’ onions,” he replied, tipping back the bottle again as he thought. “Spicy curry, nachos, those sour cream an’ onion chips. Hot chocolate with little marshmallows.” Spike smiled suddenly, his face going soft, softer than it had been in a long time. “There was this woman, mum of—of a girl I knew. She made hot chocolate for me. Some of the best I’d ever had. She was a real lady, that one.” Spike gave her a knowing look. “You remind me of her. She never treated me like a freak either.”

 

“Why would I treat you like a freak?” Nika asked, honestly puzzled.

 

“I’m a vampire, or I used to be,” he replied, thinking that was all the explanation he needed to give. When she simply shook her head, he continued. “I’m evil. I’m—I’m a thing, a monster. I’m what goes bump in the night.”

 

She smiled at him. “You saved my life.”

 

He was beginning to get angry. She wasn’t reacting like she was supposed to. She was supposed to agree, to tell him that yes, he was an evil thing, and she had every right to hate him, to treat him like dirt. She was supposed to—“You’re not—you’re mental,” he accused her. “I’m an evil vampire that tried to kill you.” Exasperated, he said, “I could drain you now! ‘m not your bloody friend!”

 

“Then why did you come back here?”

 

He had no answer to that question, realizing belatedly that he had risen from his seat on her threadbare couch, and that his bad leg was threatening to buckle under him. Slumping down, Spike stared at her. “You’re one odd bint, you know that?”

 

Nika wasn’t exactly offended. She was beginning to wonder if she wasn’t off her rocker herself. Here she was, sharing a drink with a vampire whom she had meant to be her means of suicide. Shrugging, she said, “Probably. That doesn’t make it a lie though. You could have killed me. You didn’t.”

 

“I’m still evil.” It was said rebelliously, with something akin to a pout on his face, and then Nika did laugh. At his glare, she laughed harder, laughed until she cried, and tears poured down her face.

 

He was by her side in an instant, forgetting that it had been him she was laughing at, seeing only her tears. He hadn’t minded tears, accompanied by a healthy dose of fear, when he was draining a girl. But seeing them on Nika’s face now was a different story, and he moved to brush them away. “’s gonna be alright,” he promised, not even knowing why he cared.

 

“Will it?” she asked, perfectly serious. It didn’t strike her as odd that she was asking for reassurance from a vampire, nor did he seem to be a stranger to her.

 

Caught flat-footed by her question, he nodded. “Well, yeah. S’pose it will.” Spike hesitated, moved his hand to shakily wipe the tears that lingered. “Pain—fades, after a while. You’ll forget to think about him every minute of every day. It won’t hurt so bad. You’ll find some nice bloke who doesn’t remind you of him, an’ you’ll start rememberin’ without pain.”

 

“How do you know?” Nika asked, and it didn’t sound snotty, or doubtful, as though a vampire shouldn’t—couldn’t—know pain.

 

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I know. There—there was a girl. She died, more than a year ago now.” Spike had almost been at that point, when they’d brought Buffy back. Or, at least, he’d been able to think that there might come a point when it didn’t hurt quite as badly. He could see the possibility of it.

 

Spike had never considered that there might be ways to hurt worse.

 

“Tell me about the girl.” It was a question and a statement and a plea all rolled into one. She said it as Dawn had asked for a story for at least one hundred of the 147 nights that Buffy had been gone. She meant, “Tell me something to make me forget for a while that I hurt so badly. Offer me an escape, and I will gladly take it.”

 

It was a different, simpler method of escape than what he and Buffy had indulged in. Sex had had far deeper ramifications than he’d ever believed it could. As an evil vampire, you didn’t think much about sex. It was pleasure, it was pain, and it had been both with Buffy.

 

What Spike hadn’t figured on was the hole it left when he’d wanted it to mean so much more.

 

“Do you know about the Slayer?” he asked, returning to the couch, taking another drink. His words were just beginning to get slurred, and that was fine with him. He needed to be anesthetized for this.

 

Nika had finished her first glass of wine, and she poured herself another, suddenly not caring that the wine would go straight to her head. She was a light-weight. “She fights vampires.”

 

“That’s her,” he agreed. “I killed two of ‘em you know.” Spike paused to see Nika’s reaction, wondering if she’d flinch, or look at him in horror. Instead, she simply listened. He shrugged, and went on. “So I go to kill this one, only I can’t.”

 

Spike didn’t want to go into the Angelus thing. Nor did he want to bring Dru into it. What he wanted was to tell the whole sordid tale of the Slayer and the Vampire to someone who might actually take his side for once. “So, long story made much shorter, we do the run around. I leave, come back, leave again. An’ the last time I come back, the government sticks me with this chip in my head. Suddenly, I can’t hunt, can’t feed, can’t bloody well even hit humans anymore. We strike a deal. Mostly, she doesn’t kill me.”

 

“And you fall in love with her.” Nika considered that for a minute. After the second glass of wine, she was a little more willing to say what she was thinking. “You do realize how masochistic that was?”

 

Spike laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. I have some idea.”

 

“What next?”

 

He told her everything, from his first confession of love, to chaining her up, to getting tortured back into her good graces by a Hellgod. About not saving her, and loving Dawn, and her friends bringing her back, and the sexcapades that brought down a house. Finally, Spike told her about the night in the alley, and what she’d said to make him leave.

 

Really, what she’d done. Sticks and stones and all that. It was her back to him that had screamed the loudest.

 

Spike was surprised when Nika came over and sat next to him on the couch, grabbing his right arm and beginning to knead the muscles. “Wha—What are you doin’?”

 

“You don’t actually have any circulation, but this will still help with the numbness.” Her skillful hands massaged each finger individually, and Spike could feel them tingle. It was more than he’d felt there since he’d gotten the chip out.

 

“Why?”

 

“_Nain_ told me once that kindness is its own reward, and that cruelty, even toward those who have been unkind, will only destroy you.” Nika paused in her movements to gather her thoughts. “You chose to stop killing humans for a girl who hurt you. You cared for her sister. You can use my kindness, I think. And I like taking care of people.”

 

Spike shook his head. “’m evil, luv. Don’t—don’t think otherwise just because I didn’t kill you.”

 

“You were a good man once,” Nika replied. “Or maybe I see what you could be. Or maybe I just don’t give a damn about what you are.” She looked at him, her eyes suddenly fierce. “You saved me the other night. So I don’t care.”

 

And she didn’t. Spike could see it in her eyes. She really didn’t care what he was, who he was. She was massaging the muscles in his leg now, her hands bringing to life nerves that he’d forgotten existed. He hissed in appreciation, staring at her in awe. “Nika…” It came out as a muffled groan, and it was the first time he’d used her name.

 

“Shh,” she said. “What happened to you tonight?”

 

He attempted to shrug, but her ministrations were causing pins and needles to sprout up and down his leg and arm. “Got jumped.” He winced as he felt a particularly sharp pain. “Demons aren’t the kindest lot in the world.”

 

“You’re a target,” Nika said softly. “Why don’t you stay here?”

 

“Huh?” Spike stared at her.

 

Nika stopped her kneading. “You’re in danger out there,” she said quietly. “They hurt you, don’t they?”

 

“A bit,” Spike admitted, almost sulky. “They—other demons—don’t much like vampires. An’ they aren’t particularly nice to half-crippled ones, either.”

 

“So stay here,” she suggested. “It’s safe. The basement’s not too bad.”

 

“No, it’s not,” he agreed quietly. “After—after what I tried to do, an’ your husband though—”

 

“I asked you to, and it wasn’t you who bit him,” Nika said.

 

Spike reached out and caressed her face, a tender gesture that ended up being more friendly than anything else. “You’d do that for me?”

 

“Let’s just say I owe you one,” Nika replied. “After all, it was you sinking your fangs into my throat that convinced me I wanted to live.”

 

~~~~~

 

It was only a matter of time after that before their relationship turned physical; they both knew it. After all, they were two attractive adults, living in close quarters, who were of age and who had a need for physical comfort. (Well, Nika thought of herself as relatively attractive. Spike, on the other hand, was drop-dead gorgeous. She wasn’t blind.)

 

They spent several months trying to get their bearings around one another. Nika made a point of giving her vampire tenant all the privacy he needed, not going into the basement unless she was invited. Spike came and went as he pleased, partly just to prove that he could, partly to find out what Nika would say when he disappeared for a couple days. Even when he reappeared after being out for several nights in a row, looking like something the cat dragged in, she said nothing. Simply got out her first aid kit and cleaned him up. On nights, or days, when they were both there and awake, she helped him exercise his leg and arm. After a few weeks, there was a noticeable improvement in both mobility and feeling.

 

What Spike appreciated most was how she treated him. It might not have seemed like much to someone else, but she never brought up the fact that he was a vampire, except when she asked him if he wanted her to pick up blood. She knocked before she came down to the basement. When he didn’t rinse his mug out, she teased him about being a slob, and then asked him politely to clean up his messes. He might have been just another person to her, and for that reason, more than any other, he began to find her beautiful.

 

It was edging on towards December when Spike noticed that Nika was getting a little more depressed. She didn’t come down to visit him, and when she did see him, she didn’t say much. Dark circles had appeared under her eyes, and even the midwife duties that she pulled weren’t cheering her up. Normally, Nika came home quite jazzed after delivering a baby, but not anymore.

 

Spike wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say to her. He wanted to comfort her, to find out what was wrong, but he wasn’t sure how. If Nika had been Buffy, he would have taken her patrolling and let her kill something. Or he would have riled her up until she took her frustrations out on him. Neither option would really work for this particular woman, however.

 

After several nights of thinking about it, Spike finally went and knocked on Nika’s bedroom door. He knew she’d be getting ready for bed but wouldn’t be asleep just yet. “Nika-luv?”

 

He waited for her to open the door. She frowned at him slightly. “Spike? Is something wrong?”

 

“I was goin’ to ask you that,” he replied. Spike hesitated. “I—look, I don’t want to pry, but you’ve been a bit—down, I guess. Is—is everythin’ alright?”

 

“I’m fine, Spike,” Nika replied firmly, though not unkindly.

 

He ducked his head. “Yeah, right. I was just worried ‘bout you, ‘s all.” Spike started to limp away, and was stopped by a hand on his arm.

 

“Wait, Spike.” Nika waited for him to turn and look at her. “Come in.”

 

It was the first time Spike had entered her bedroom since the night she’d asked him to kill her. Their movements were a mirror of that scene, as he sat on the bed next to her. Nika was freshly scrubbed, her face free of makeup, wearing a tank top and a pair of medical scrubs. For once, her hair was out of its braid, and hung in waves around her shoulders. Spike was hard-pressed not to touch it. He had always loved women’s hair—the smell, the texture, the way the light played over the richness of color.

 

“Christmas is coming up,” Nika finally said quietly.

 

Spike frowned, trying to understand. “’m not sure I understand, luv.”

 

“This is the first Christmas I’ll be alone.”

 

Comprehension dawned, as Spike got what she was saying. As a rule, vampires didn’t care much about holidays. When you were undead and immortal, the traditional markers of the passage of time didn’t mean a lot. But Spike could remember vaguely what it had been like to spend the first Christmas without his father. There had been a pall that hung over the house, despite everyone’s attempt at being cheerful.

 

Tentatively, Spike put an arm around her shoulders, ready to withdraw if she pulled away. To his surprise, she leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder. “I miss him so much,” she whispered. He watched the tears drip down her cheeks, and used his other hand to wipe them away.

 

“I know,” he replied. “I know.”

 

She looked up at him, her wide gray eyes moist and red. Nika was not one of those girls who could cry and still look beautiful. But even with blotchy skin and a red nose, Spike felt drawn to her—wanted to protect her, as she’d protected him. He had full range of motion back in his right hand now, and he knew it was thanks to her.

 

So it was a thank you kiss that he offered. A mixture of thank you, and you’re beautiful, and you’ve been kind to me, and I’m sorry you’re hurting. When Nika kissed him back, it was the same—loneliness, hurt, pleasure that he was there, attraction.

 

The kiss went on for much longer than either of them intended, and Spike slid his hand under her tank top. He pulled back to let her breathe, and his eyes asked a question.

 

Nika nodded, knowing what he was asking. She didn’t normally engage in casual sex, but she wanted to be held again. Danny had been the one to awaken her body all those years ago, and she craved the utter freedom that came from letting yourself go, from a complete surrender to instincts as old as humankind.

 

It was the same; it was different. It was spectacular—it was a disappointment. If either of them had thought that making love would suddenly make everything click, causing them to realize that they had moved on, healed, been made whole, they were seriously mistaken. When it was all over, Spike held Nika to him, half propped up in the bed, her hair spread across his chest. He could feel the change in the room, and knew she was about to run. Well, tell him to get out. It was her room—her house—after all.

 

“Spike—” Nika felt him tense.

 

“’s alright,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to say it.”

 

She was quiet. “Actually, I wanted to know if we were still friends.”

 

“Huh?” He moved her hair so that he could see her face better. “Nika—”

 

She shook her head at him. “Spike, we both know that we haven’t moved on yet. I wish I could say that I have. I wish—”

 

Spike considered her words, finally nodding in acknowledgement. She was right. He was still in love with Buffy. “We could try, you know.”

 

“It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us,” Nika replied. “You know that. I love you, I just don’t _love_ you.” She reached up and grabbed one of his hands, the right one, and began to massage it, as she had so many times before. “I don’t want this to ruin things. It doesn’t have to, does it?”

 

Spike frowned. “Why would it?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, you’re the only guy—Danny was my first, you know.”

 

Spike smiled, feeling almost honored. He was glad now that he’d gone for the soft and slow approach, rather than the hard and fast the Slayer usually preferred. The softness had been new for him. This talking afterwards was a bit new as well. Buffy usually ran off, and it had been bloody difficult to have a real conversation with Dru at any point in time.

 

“I won’t ask you to compare,” Spike said, with a little smile, “but was it okay?”

 

She returned the smile. “More than okay. If sex were all it was, I don’t think I’d have a problem, but my heart isn’t mine to give yet.”

 

“No.” There was a long pause, and then Spike tried to extricate himself from Nika and the bed sheets. “I should go, luv.”

 

“Stay,” she replied, hanging onto his hand, as though for dear life. “Just stay here. I want to be held tonight. I don’t want to feel alone.”

 

With his free hand, Spike touched her hair, reveling in the silky texture. “You won’t be alone,” he assured her. “We’ll do Christmas together. Won’t be the same, I know, but it’ll be somethin’. I’ll stick around, an’ we’ll—we’ll do whatever you want.”

 

“Okay,” Nika agreed, slipping down into sleep moments later.

 

Spike watched the easy rise and fall of her chest, and wondered at it. It had never been like that with Buffy. There had been no battle for dominance, no fighting for control. She hadn’t once given the impression that she was pretending she was with her dead husband. Even though Spike had been the one trying to offer comfort, it was Nika who had comforted him.

 

This was what it was like, he realized. This was what he wanted. Spike didn’t mind the rough and tumble, but he wanted tenderness also. They might have decided not to become lovers, but he didn’t think they would stop being friends.

 

Nika’s tenderness, her acceptance, her utter trust as she lay sleeping in the arms of a vampire who could drain her in a moment’s time: it was a feast. And now that Spike had glimpsed what a feast might be, he would never again be able to settle for the crumbs.

 

Buffy had thrown him scraps, like you might throw the dog under the table. Nika gave him everything she had to offer, even though it was only friendship. Suddenly, Spike realized that he would probably never stop loving Buffy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t live without her. Here was another girl who could use his services, and give him the good return. Dawn had given him what she could, as had Joyce. They had all given him something—kindness, trust, love.

 

Spike wouldn’t live without those things again, even if it meant he would never be with Buffy. Getting his rocks back didn’t mean feeding off humans, or killing everything in sight. It meant being his own man, deciding what he needed, and not settling for less.

 

Right now it meant staying with this woman. Later, maybe it would mean something else. Spike smiled. He didn’t have to get over the Slayer. All he had to do was learn to exist in a reality where she wasn’t the center of his universe. And suddenly it seemed easier than it ever had before.


	8. November 2005

**Chapter 8: November 2005**

 

Spike cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he waited for Dawn to pick up. “Dawn speaking.”

 

“Hey, Niblet,” he said. “You up for Thursday night still? Thought I might take you out to dinner.”

 

There was a long pause. “I can’t, Spike. I already have plans.”

 

“Oh.” Thursday nights were their nights, even if Connor joined them sometimes. “You got a hot date with Hell-Boy?”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes, even though she knew Spike wouldn’t see the gesture. All three of them had watched that movie together, and since then Spike had gotten a kick out of calling her boyfriend “Hell-Boy.” She supposed it was probably better than the other nicknames he might have come up with.

 

“No, well, yes. I mean—” Dawn sighed. “This week’s Thanksgiving,” she explained. “Buffy’s in town, and we’re spending it with Angel and company.”

 

Spike frowned. He’d forgotten about Thanksgiving. He and Wesley weren’t big on the holiday, since they were both Brits, and Nika had never really made a big fuss. Last year, if he remembered correctly, he and Wesley had been out killing some nasties, and Nika had had a delivery.

 

“Right,” he replied. “Well, that’s—that’s good. You have fun.” Something about what Dawn said made him perk up his ears. “Why’s your sister comin’ down here? I would’ve thought that you’d be spendin’ time in Sunnyhell with your mates.”

 

There was another pause, and Dawn explained reluctantly, “Xander got a job over the holidays. He had to travel, and he couldn’t get back to Sunnydale. And Willow’s spending the next couple months in England with the coven. She decided she needed some more instruction with the whole magic thing.”

 

What Dawn didn’t say, but what Spike heard, was that Buffy was alone. His eyes glanced back at the drawer in the table next to the bed. “You have a good weekend then, Bit,” he finally said. “I’ll see you next week?”

 

“If not before,” Dawn assured him. “If I can get away, I will.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “Spend some time with your friends, an’ don’t worry about me. ‘s not like vampires much care ‘bout celebrating Thanksgiving, yeah?”

 

They said their good-byes, and Spike hung up the phone, going over to the bedside table and pulling out a letter already worn from much handling.

 

Dawn had come over a few nights after she’d introduced him to Connor. It had been late afternoon, and Spike was just about to watch the _Passions_ episode that he’d taped. She’d thrust the envelope into his hand abruptly as he’d looked up, surprised to see her.

 

“Everythin’ alright?” he had asked.

 

The girl had been flustered, and finally said, “Look, Spike, Buffy called me the other night to ask about you. I didn’t tell her where you were, because I wasn’t sure you wanted her to know. She asked me to give this to you.”

 

The envelope had been sealed, with his name written neatly on the front in handwriting he barely recognized. It wasn’t as though they’d been in the habit of writing each other. “Dawn—”

 

“If you want me to tell her where you are, or give her your address, or something, I will.” She’d given him a quick hug. “I’ve gotta go. I have a study date—midterm tomorrow, you know. I’ll call, or come over or something though.” And then, before she had left, she whispered in his ear, “It doesn’t matter what she says, or what she wants, Spike. I love you, and you’re _my_ family.”

 

Spike now unfolded the letter for about the millionth time and read it again.

 

_Spike,_

_It feels weird, writing to you like this, when you’re not in front of me. I don’t even know where you are, but Dawn said you were okay, and that she would give this to you. Still, everything we’ve ever done has been so physical, that it feels strange to be writing this down instead of saying it to your face. Maybe this is better, because I don’t think I’d actually be able to say the words out loud._

_I’m sorry. I know it’s about three years too late, but I really am. Sorry. I shouldn’t have used you to make myself feel better. And I shouldn’t have beat you up that night and left you there. I was actually relieved when I saw that you were writing to Dawn, because I knew you were at least alive. Or undead. Whatever. _

_Anyway, I guess that’s it. If you want to get in touch with me, that’s fine. You know where to find me. Or if you never want to see me again, I’d understand that too. _

_Buffy _

_PS Dawn told me about the chip. I’m glad you’re not hunting again._

 

“Spike.” He looked up, startled. He hadn’t even heard Nika approaching his room. She got a strange look on her face when she saw what he was doing. “Are you reading that letter again? Why don’t you just call her, or something? Get it over with.” Spike had let her read it the day Dawn had given it to him. She hadn’t really commented at the time.

 

Spike shook his head. “I promised myself I wasn’t goin’ there again,” he replied. “I’m not gonna let myself be used, just because she’s feelin’ a little remorse.”

 

Nika sighed. “You keep telling yourself that,” she said, with a small smile. “Look, Spike, you live in L.A. now, for one thing. And for another, you’re hardly alone. You don’t have to go back to her or put up with anything from her. I know you’re dying to find out why the heck she wrote you in the first place.” At Spike’s sardonic look, she amended, “Well, figuratively speaking anyway.”

 

“Nika-luv, I dunno. I honestly don’t know what the bloody hell I want anymore.” Spike ran a hand through his platinum hair, feeling the ends curl. “I don’t even know if Buffy’s what I want, or if I’ve just built up this person in m’ mind who doesn’t even exist.”

 

She sat down on the bed next to him and waited. There were moments that came and went in a relationship, she knew. Moments that if you let them pass, what-might-have-been never blossomed into what-would-be. For her and Spike, that moment had passed long ago, and what had been left behind was a very comfortable friendship. Better than siblings, even. She wondered if that’s what Spike was afraid of, that the moment had long passed for him and Buffy.

 

“Dawn reminded me that this week’s Thanksgiving,” Spike said quietly.

 

Nika was puzzled. “I didn’t think you celebrated Thanksgiving. I mean, we do Christmas here, but—”

 

“Was five years ago that I got the chip in my head,” he said softly. “Spent that Thanksgiving watching Buffy an’ her friends eat. I was so soddin’ hungry… There were all these Indian spirits runnin’ around, wantin’ revenge. The whole gang was fightin’ over whether it was right to kill ‘em or not.” He snorted. “Bunch of blatherin’ idiots, really.”

 

He didn’t really mean it, Nika saw. Spike had told her enough about his relationship with Buffy and her gang so that she knew it had been tenuous at the best of times. She also knew that Spike liked company, and they had cut him off from the group in such a way as to wound him deeply. Wounds that each of them carried, that each of them were healing in their own way and in their own time—her and Spike and Wesley.

 

“Let’s go out tonight,” Nika said. “It’s stupid to sit around and mope. I’ll ask Wes to come over on Thursday too. I’ll make curry, and we’ll have our own dinner. But tonight let’s go out.”

 

“I don’t know—” Spike began, but she cut him off.

 

“I have the Lamaze class at six, but I should be able to meet you guys at the club around eight. We’ll have drinks. We haven’t done that in a long time, Spike.”

 

The vampire nodded. They hadn’t been out together in a while. Wes was a maniac for working, and Spike didn’t mind the hectic schedule unless it cut in on Dawn-time. For both of them, working meant not thinking, and not thinking was a good thing. “Alright. You’ll give him a call then?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll call.” Nika stood and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go out tonight, you can forget about Buffy for a while, and then you can figure out what you’re going to do with the letter.”

 

Spike shook his head. “Wish it were that easy.”

 

It was never easy.

 

~~~~~

 

Heads turned as the two men entered the bar. Wesley wished he could say that it wasn’t a boost to his ego, but it definitely was. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Spike as they scanned the interior of the club, he couldn’t help but notice that there were a number of female (and a few male) eyes on them. It reminded Wesley of the first night they’d gone out together. They’d both had a couple of propositions before they’d left.

 

He couldn’t help but feeling he’d come a long way since he’d first set foot in L.A. Even if the clothing hadn’t changed that much.

 

Spike unzipped the leather jacket he wore and looked out over the crowd. “Don’t see her, mate. She might have gotten out of her class late.”

 

Wesley ran a hand through his short, spiky hair, further disheveling it. “It’s only a little after eight,” he reminded the vampire. “We’re really not that late.”

 

“If we hadn’t seen those blasted vamps, we’d have been early,” Spike grumbled. “Now I need to wash vamp dust out my mouth.” He made a face. “Wish for once we could have a nice, quiet evening.”

 

Wesley looked at him incredulously. “No, you don’t,” he corrected. “You’d be out of your mind with boredom in an hour.”

 

Spike shrugged, acknowledging the accuracy of the statement. “Maybe. Used to like quiet evenings with Dawn, though,” he said softly, so that Wesley could barely make out the words over the noise from the people around them. “Before thinkin’ became a dangerous past time.”

 

They shared a look, and then a group of people at a nearby table caught Wesley’s eye. He let out a string of curses so colorful that Spike turned to stare at him in admiration. “What the—” The vampire followed the taller man’s gaze until he caught sight of what had so upset his friend. He let out his own curse.

 

Angel and Cordelia were seated at a table, sharing the body language of lovers. With them were Gunn, Fred, Dawn, and Connor. It wouldn’t have bothered Spike a bit to see any of them, except on Wesley’s behalf, but sitting in between Dawn and Angel was Buffy.

 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered. “We can still leave.” He grabbed Wesley’s arm and pulled him back towards the entrance. “You can call Nika on her cell phone, and we’ll meet somewhere else.”

 

“You aren’t going to go anywhere.” Nika came up between them, slipping a hand through each of their arms.

 

Wesley got a pained look on his face. “Danika, I don’t think it’s wise to stay here. Angel—”

 

“Angel can kiss my ass,” Nika said, sounding pissed off. “I don’t bloody care. I want to stay here. I’m going to stay here. And I want my friends to stay with me. If he tries anything, the Sanctorium spell will stop him, and I’ll put a curse on him as soon as I get home.”

 

At the look on both their faces, she gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of both of you avoiding the issue. We have the right to be here, and we’re staying.”

 

“You tell them, sweetheart,” said an amused voice. “Nika, baby, it’s good to see you. Tell me you’re going to grace us with a song tonight.”

 

Nika raised an eyebrow. “I’m not planning on drinking _that_ much tonight, Lorne.” She gave the green-skinned demon a hug. “It’s good to see you too.”

 

“It’s been too long,” Lorne scolded her. “I thought I told you not to be a stranger.”

 

Nika shrugged. She’d met the demon shortly after he’d opened the first Caritas. Being married to someone who was essentially a half-breed had made life interesting. Both of them had grown up knowing about the demon-world, and it was a relief to go somewhere they both felt like they fit. Lorne had been in Las Vegas when Danny was killed, but after he got back into town, he’d come to offer his condolences. She’d been excited when he’d opened another Caritas, this time with Sanctorium spells against both demon and human violence, and shielding spells to keep out fiery, flying barrels.

 

“I’ve been busy. I have my hands full with these two,” Nika replied, referring fondly to Spike and Wesley.

 

Lorne gave both of them a smile, and measured Spike up with his red eyes. “So, you going to sing for me tonight, Sweet Cheeks?”

 

“Told you there isn’t enough alcohol in the world to get me up on that stage,” Spike said amiably, having had this same conversation several times. “’sides, I don’t have a destiny or a soul for you to read. So there you go.”

 

“You might be surprised about that,” Lorne replied. He threw a glance over at the table where Angel and his gang were sitting, and put a gentle hand on Wesley’s arm. “Things have been pretty quiet around here tonight,” he said softly. “And I’d really like to keep it that way. I’ve got a table ready for you off to the side.”

 

Wesley exchanged a look with both Spike and Nika. The woman sighed. “It’s up to you, Wes,” she said gently. “If you don’t want to stay, we don’t have to.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Don’t think Buffy’ll attack me in front of everybody, even if she could. I’ll stay if you want.”

 

The ex-Watcher finally nodded. “Yes, let’s stay. I believe Nika’s right. It’s ridiculous to run.”

 

“Good,” Lorne said. “I’ll have Ana bring your usual over then.” He gave Nika a look. “And I do want a song from you tonight, Sweetheart. I’ve missed that voice.”

 

Nika smiled. “We’ll see.”

 

They headed over to the table Lorne had indicated and sat down, Wesley giving Nika a curious look. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you sing.”

 

“I haven’t for a while,” Nika confessed. “Not since before—you know. With Danny dying, and then the other Caritas getting demolished, there wasn’t much of a chance.”

 

“And tonight?” Spike asked with a raised eyebrow. “Wouldn’t mind seein’ you up there, luv.”

 

Nika gave him a look that was pure challenge. “What about you? Why don’t you get up there and sing?”

 

“Don’t like the audience tonight,” Spike said, casting a glance over at Buffy’s table.

 

“Why don’t you go over there?” Nika asked quietly, looking over at Wesley for help. He shrugged and shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t going to help. Far be it from him to encourage a friend to confront a personal demon when he couldn’t even do it himself.

 

Spike swallowed, pulling out his wallet as the waitress came over with their drinks. “Don’t think so,” he said quietly. “Don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn had seen them come in. She watched surreptitiously as Spike and Wesley looked around the crowded room, probably trying to find Nika. And she knew instantly when they had spotted her and the people she was sitting with.

 

The girl sighed. Buffy had shown up earlier that day, and they had spent the afternoon catching up. Other than the occasional bout with morning sickness, pregnancy was agreeing with the Slayer. Of course, both she and Dawn knew it was only a matter of time before it became impossible for her to do much in the way of slaying. With Willow and Giles in England, and Xander doing more and more traveling for his work, there wasn’t anyone in Sunnydale who could back her up.

 

Dawn hated to think about it, but she was worried about her sister. Besides the note to Spike, which was out of character enough, Buffy was much quieter, more withdrawn. More thoughtful. Up until now, Dawn had been beginning to suspect that thoughtful and her sister were non-mixy things. Not that Buffy wasn’t intelligent, but she certainly didn’t do introspection.

 

Now, however, Dawn was starting to get the vibe that Buffy wasn’t nearly as self-involved as she had been the last couple years. In fact, Buffy was more interested in Dawn and what Dawn was doing than anything else. They had spent the afternoon discussing Connor’s finer points.

 

Dawn would have said it was like old times, except that she and Buffy had never really been able to talk about her boyfriends. Or actually really talk. Five years was a big gap sometimes, and by the time Dawn had actually been old enough to have a boyfriend and want to talk to her sister about it, Buffy had still been caught up in the whole, “I was dead, I was in heaven, oh poor me” phase.

 

So she was actually kind of liking this older sister, who seemed to care about her and her life, but she was worried that Buffy was depressed, or that she was unhappy about the pregnancy, or maybe that she’d go out and do something stupid to get herself killed. Especially since there wasn’t anyone looking after her.

 

Dawn watched as Nika came up behind Spike and Wesley. She and Lorne must have convinced them both to stay, because all three headed over to a table in the corner, away from her and her friends. Probably a good thing. She thought she might be able to trust Buffy around Spike, but trusting Angel around Wesley (and Spike) would be a completely different story.

 

She checked the others’ faces. Buffy looked as though she’d sensed something, but then apparently dismissed it. Looking over at her boyfriend, she hoped that Connor would read her unspoken message. “You know, I think I’m going to get something to drink.”

 

“I’ll go,” Connor said, standing.

 

Dawn stood next to him. “I’ll go with you,” she insisted.

 

He raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. “Okay, if you want to. Anybody else want something?”

 

“No, I think we’re good here,” Cordelia said, smiling at him. “And besides, you couldn’t get what we’d want.”

 

Connor shrugged. “Give me a few more months.”

 

With their hands linked, they made their way through the tables and the other folks just standing around. There was some sort of demon on the stage now, singing some oldie that Dawn didn’t recognize. Whatever it was, its voice wasn’t half bad, and everyone there seemed to be enjoying the show and the generally peaceful atmosphere.

 

“Where are we going?” Connor asked, as she led him away from the bar and towards the corner table where Spike and the others were sitting. He caught a glimpse of them the next moment, and his eyes widened. “Oh, boy. If Dad catches sight of them…”

 

“I know,” Dawn said, her face set in a stubborn scowl. “And I really don’t care. If Angel knows what’s good for him, he’ll leave them alone. He touches Spike or Wes, and I’m going to have to do some damage.” At Connor’s disbelieving look, Dawn shrugged. “Well, I’ll punch him anyway. I mean, it’s not like he’d actually hit _me_.”

 

“He can’t do any damage in here,” Connor soothed. “Protected, remember?”

 

Dawn shook her head. “I don’t know, Connor.” She huffed. “I hate this. Really, it’s worse than my parents, because at least with them I didn’t have to hide the fact that I was seeing one or the other.”

 

He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I like them too, remember? They’re my friends. If it comes down to it, Dad won’t make me choose between them. I don’t think he’s completely sure I’d pick him.”

 

She smiled a little. “And I hate putting you in that position too.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” he reminded her. “That’s one of the things you love about me.”

 

With a final squeeze of the shoulders, Connor released her, only to grab her hand as they made their way to their destination.

 

“Nibblet,” Spike said, a sardonic look in his eyes. “Might not have been wise to draw attention to our presence, luv.”

 

Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care. I’m tired of sneaking around.”

 

Wesley sighed. “Are you going to make a scene, Dawn?”

 

“I don’t make scenes,” Dawn replied. “Besides, I just wanted to come over and say hello, since it might be a few days before I can make it over to the house. It sounds like Buffy might be staying a little longer than we thought, if she can survive around Cordelia for that long.”

 

The smile on Spike’s face was less than kind. “Yeah? She havin’ a bit of trouble with the fact that Peaches and the cheerleader are getting it on?”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Please, Spike. She is so over Angel, it isn’t even funny. No, she and Cordy have never gotten along. Even back in high school they barely tolerated each other. And it hasn’t gotten much better. Buffy’s trying for my sake, and Cordy’s trying for Angel’s sake, and there are a lot of fake smiles going around. It’s like a flashback to my past.”

 

“If you two need a break, you know you’re welcome any time, right?” Nika asked, looking sympathetic.

 

Connor smiled. “Thanks. Between Buffy and Dad, we’re both getting pretty tired of being watched. I swear they both think we’re going to start making out in front of them or something. Like we can’t be trusted.”

 

“You can’t be trusted,” Spike said promptly, softening his words with a grin. “An’ frankly, I’d be worried if you could.” He tipped up his chin. “Thanks for showing some solidarity, but you two had better take off before they send out a search party. No need for violence here tonight.”

 

“Isn’t there?” Angel’s voice came from behind Dawn and Connor, and he loomed, scowling. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

 

Spike rose, carefully hiding his slightly crippled state from the older vampire. “We’re havin’ a conversation, Peaches. You got a problem with that?”

 

“I have a problem when it’s with my son,” Angel replied, looking at Wesley as he said it. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

 

Wesley flinched, but didn’t say anything in his own defense. Nika was looking a little angry, and as though she might say something, when she was cut off by a different voice. “Angel, back off.”

 

Buffy had come up beside him and put her hand on his arm. “These are Dawn’s friends, and she has the right to spend time with them.”

 

“But Connor—”

 

“Connor’s an adult. He’s also Dawn’s boyfriend. If I remember correctly, you started hanging around my friends a little more when we dated.” Buffy was looking amused, but she kept a firm hand on the older vampire’s arm. “Go sit down.”

 

“Buffy—”

 

“Go. Sit. Down.” It was an order, not a request at this point. When Angel still didn’t move, she gave him a little shove in the direction of their table. “They can be here if they want. Dawn can hang with whoever she wants. It’s none of your business. Go.”

 

Angel finally left, casting a menacing look back at the table. Buffy turned to look at her sister. “Sorry about that. I tried to stop him.”

 

Both Dawn and Connor shrugged. “He was going to find out sometime,” the boy said philosophically. “It’s not like we haven’t had this conversation before about different things.”

 

Buffy turned to look at the others. “Hey.”

 

It was lame, and she knew it, but she was looking right at Spike, and anything else she might have said flew right out of her head. He looked good, like he’d put on a little weight since she’d seen him last. He wasn’t wearing black on black either, instead wearing dark blue jeans and a brown shirt, and his hair was mussed and curly. The look suited him.

 

“H’lo, Buffy.” Spike drank her in with his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, and uncertainty had him paralyzed. “Been a while.”

 

“Three years,” she agreed. Buffy tore her eyes from him and held out her hand to Wesley. “Hey, Wes. It’s good to see you again.”

 

Wesley was slightly relieved that Buffy was both not going to go postal, and that she seemed to have no hard feelings towards him at this point. “Hello, Buffy,” he said, shaking her hand. “You’re looking quite well.”

 

“I’m good,” she said. Then, looking at Nika, she smiled. “You must be Nika. Dawn’s told me a lot of good things about you. Thanks for looking out for her.”

 

Nika wasn’t necessarily predisposed to liking the Slayer, partly because of what Spike had said, partly because of things Dawn had let slip. On the other hand, she prided herself on making her own judgment calls, and not relying on anyone else’s opinions. The woman she saw in front of her had an air of maturity that didn’t mesh with the stories she’d heard, and so she decided to make her own decision regarding Buffy later. “It’s been my pleasure. Dawn’s good company, especially when I find myself overwhelmed with testosterone.”

 

Buffy laughed politely, and then looked back over at Spike. “Could—could I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

 

Spike didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he nodded and followed the Slayer out of the club. There wasn’t anywhere for them to talk privately inside, and so she led him out to the alley, which was deserted. Buffy realized belatedly the number of bad memories alleys brought back for both of them. They had seen each other last in an alley like this one.

 

“You wanted to talk?” Spike asked, his voice gravelly, wariness in every line of his body. Buffy knew that she had put it there, that she had put in him the instinct to run at the sight of her, and it hurt her to see it.

 

“You got my letter?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She stared at the ground. “Oh. I thought—I thought maybe you might write, or call, or something.”

 

“I was still tryin’ to figure out what I was goin’ to do,” Spike replied, staring at her while she stared at the ground. She was still beautiful as ever. She’d gained a little weight over the last few years, and it looked good on her. Best of all, there was a light in her eyes that Spike didn’t remember seeing since before the tower. Before he’d failed her.

 

She smiled. “I understand. Look, Spike, if you want me to leave you alone and not bug you, I will. I—I just wanted to make things right between us.”

 

Spike looked away as she glanced up, unwilling to meet her eyes. “I dunno, Slayer. What do you want from me?”

 

“I don’t know,” she confessed. Buffy bit her lip. “Could we talk?”

 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Spike asked, a touch of amusement entering his tone. This was new for him. Instead of chasing the Slayer, she seemed to be chasing him.

 

She shook her head. “No, I mean, we are, but I was thinking of—coffee? Sometime? Not—not a date, really, but—could we be friends?”

 

“What do you want from me, Buffy?” he asked again, this time in a tone as gentle as a summer breeze. He stood several feet away from her, his head cocked to the side, his hands shoved into his pockets. The expression on his face was the same it had been the night that Giles had left for England, when he’d found her in the Bronze. It might have been so different if she’d only made a different choice that night. If she’d just talked to him, told him everything—if somehow she had stopped the downward spiral that had led them here, three years later, strangers in an alley.

 

“I want to make things right,” she said, repeating herself without knowing it. “We could get a drink or something and you could tell me how you’re doing, and about this demon-killing thing you and Wesley are doing. You know, about your life.”

 

Spike stared at her. He was beginning to feel as if he were living a dream. She wasn’t suggesting they have a “my life sucks” talk. Buffy had never, ever asked him about his own life. (Except for the one time when she’d wanted to know about the Slayers he’d killed, and that had been for her own purposes.) “You want to know?”

 

“I do.” Buffy sighed. “I don’t know, Spike. Maybe it’s because you were the closest thing I had to a friend after I came back. I’ve missed you.”

 

When he still hesitated, Buffy said, “It’s okay, if you don’t want to. I’d understand. I just thought I’d let you know—I’m glad you’re still looking after Dawn. It makes me feel better about her being here in L.A.”

 

That did it. Angel was in L.A. too, but Buffy hadn’t said anything about feeling better because _he_ was in town. And Spike wanted this; he still wanted her. It had been so long, and he wanted to be close to her for while. Maybe it would turn out badly again, but he had somewhere to go this time around. “How long you in town for, Slayer?”

 

Buffy was startled, and then relief crossed her face. “I drive back to Sunnydale on Sunday.” At the lifted eyebrow, she said, “And yes, you did hear me right. I’m driving now.”

 

Spike smirked. “Good to know, luv. Just don’t kill anyone while you’re at it.”

 

“I haven’t yet,” she said, sounding a little miffed. “So—Saturday, maybe? After sunset?”

 

He wavered, and then acquiesced. “Alright. You have a piece of paper?”

 

Buffy seemed surprised, then rummaged in her purse for her day planner and a pen. Spike quickly scribbled down a phone number, and then handed both pen and paper back. “’s my cell number,” he explained. “You can give me a call, let me know where you want to meet.”

 

“You have a cell phone?” she asked, nonplussed.

 

He shrugged. “Makes it easier for Wes to get ahold of me when he’s got a new monster on the line.” Spike turned to go back inside, thinking he’d better get back to his friends before they sent out a search party for his dust. “Summers?”

 

Buffy glanced up from her planner where she was still staring at Spike’s phone number. “Yeah?”

 

“You look good.”

 

A slightly flustered half-smile crossed her face, then. Somehow that one compliment meant more to her than all the flattery in the world. “You too, Spike. Really good.”

 

He smiled back at her, the look on his face almost soft, before he turned and walked away, back into the bar. Buffy replaced the planner in her purse, feeling hopeful for the first time in years.


	9. December 2003

**Chapter 9: December 2003**

 

Wesley stared at the door, feeling conflicted. Over the last months, he had been at Nika’s house often, but he’d always had a reason. He needed to speak to Spike, he needed the vampire’s help, he needed Nika’s skill at first aid… The list could go on, of course. He’d never simply stopped by, however.

 

The reasoning was simple. Once he stopped by for no reason at all, a line would be crossed. They would go from acquaintances and business partners to friends, at least in Wesley’s mind. He hadn’t any intention of making friends with either of them.

 

On the other hand, Spike always had something decent around to drink, and Nika was good company, and if he stayed in his apartment, Wesley knew he’d end up drinking alone. He was tired of that. Tired of the emptiness. Tired of various members of the gang coming to him for help. If he wasn’t there, he didn’t have to say no, and he didn’t have to say yes.

 

Wesley knocked on the door softly, an almost sheepish look on his face when Nika opened it. “Hi, Wesley,” she greeted him. As always, she looked happy to see him. Happy, bordering on delighted. “Come on in. What brings you by tonight?”

 

“Oh, well, you know,” he said evasively. “I just thought I’d—”

 

“Stop by?” she asked, sounding amused. “It’s okay for you to drop in, unannounced. Neither of us really mind. There doesn’t even have to be a monster to fight.”

 

He dropped his head, and then looked up at her. Blue eyes met gray, and he finally smiled. “You’re right, of course. I simply wasn’t sure…”

 

“Be sure.” Nika slipped her hand through his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “Come on. I’m making curry tonight.”

 

Wesley’s face lit up. “I like a good curry,” he confessed. “Though I haven’t been able to find a place around here.”

 

She smiled. “That’s what Spike says. But he likes mine, so hopefully you will too.”

 

“What do I say, Nika-luv?” Spike emerged from the basement, looking utterly at home. His hair was still mussed, his t-shirt was untucked, and his feet were bare. Wesley thought it a most domestic scene.

 

He envied that. He envied them—their easy camraderie, so like what he and Cordelia had shared at one point in time. In spite of his limp and his changed loyalties, Spike was confident in a way that Wesley had barely managed. There had been a point, perhaps before Angel had gone dark on them, when Wesley had been that comfortable and content with his place in the world. Not that he had minded the promotion, but the position of leadership had in some ways cut him off from the others. It was the leader who had to make the hard decisions, the decisions that were right, even if they weren’t always “nice.” Wesley had made those decisions in Pylea with the rebels, had needed to warn Gunn after he withheld information, and finally had made the decision to try and thwart the prophecy.

 

The more command-level decisions he’d made, the more isolated he had felt. Finally, when he had to make the decision whether or not to try and save Connor by taking him, Wesley hadn’t trusted any of the others with that determination. He was their leader; he was the one who had to make the hard choices.

 

What he’d never realized was the price of failure if he made a mistake. Wesley’s father had always warned him of his potential for utter inadequacy. Turns out his father had been right.

 

“So what are we doing tonight?” Nika asked, checking on the rice. “Movie?”

 

Spike pulled a face. “None of that sentimental shite. I mean it. Only bloody thing on this time of year is that ridiculous Jimmy Stewart movie, an’ ‘m not watchin’ it.” He turned to look at Wesley. “Back me up, mate.”

 

Wesley blinked, having been pulled forcibly out of his thoughts. “What—? Oh, you mean _It’s A Wonderful Life_?”

 

“Yeah, that one,” Spike agreed. “Sentimental tripe, if you ask me. Want a beer?”

 

Wesley nodded, accepting the Newcastle Brown that Spike handed to him. He had to hand it to his fellow Brit—Spike knew what kind of beer to keep on hand. He glanced over at Nika to see what she would have to say about Spike’s opinions on the old Christmas favorite.

 

“No one asked you, did they?” happened to be Nika’s sweet reply. She dished up the rice and then the curry in huge bowls. The rich smell filled the kitchen, making his mouth water. He couldn’t remember eating that day. Cordelia had been the one who looked after all of them, making sure he ate—

 

He was thinking of her too much. He was thinking of all of them too much. He supposed it was that time of the year.

 

Nika plunked his bowl down in front of him, and then went to seat herself, a beer sitting in front of her place as well. She looked over at him. “So, what do you think, Wesley? Great American classic or sentimental shite?”

 

He hesitated. There was a part of him that wanted to agree with her, whatever her opinion might be. It was juvenile—to agree with a person one was attracted to in order to gain favor. He was no longer so callow, nor was he willing to give up anything to be with anyone. No matter how much you gave, you ended up with the short end of the stick, in Wesley’s experience.

 

“I would have to agree with Spike,” he finally said, regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s a bit too optimistic for me.”

 

Spike was already digging into the curry with apparent relish, talking around a mouth full of rice and chicken. “See, luv? ‘m tellin’ you, the people who wrote that movie had no idea what they were talkin’ about. You can do everythin’ right, you can give your best, an’ all you’re gonna get is the tip of someone’s boot.”

 

Wesley found himself nodding, half in agreement with the vampire, half in appreciation for the meal. If Nika kept feeding him like this, he might decide to never leave. She looked over at him. “So life sucks, and then you die?”

 

“No sucking goin’ on here,” Spike pointed out.

 

Nika rolled her eyes at the bad pun. “Okay, then. Life’s a bitch and then you die?”

 

“Something like that,” Wesley said softly, thinking about the last couple of years. He took a pull on his beer. “As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree with Spike. Jimmy Stewart might have been able to do his best and be satisfied, but I have found that the best you have is seldom good enough.”

 

Nika shook her head. “And yet another vote for ‘life’s a bitch and then you die.’” She thought for a second. “Okay, Spike—question. If you had to pick a motto for your life, what would it be?”

 

Spike thought for a second, chewing. “What do you mean?”

 

“If you had a phrase to describe your life, what would it be?”

 

It didn’t take quite as much time as either Nika or Wesley thought it would. “You give someone your heart, an’ they’re gonna trample on it.”

 

Nika blinked. It was hard to put a positive spin on that one. She had once played the motto game, many years ago with Danny and some of their friends, back when he was in college. The trick was to come up with something that encapsulated your life experiences without giving too much away. If you weren’t playing with close friends, it could get uncomfortable. If you were playing with people who knew you well, and whom you knew in return, it was well worth the price of admission.

 

This week had marked the year anniversary of when she and Spike had made love. There was a particular closeness that characterized ex-lovers who had remained friends. She was grateful that they’d managed to not just retain that closeness, but to build on it in the last year. Now, she thought it might be time to hook Wesley into the circle. He was already more than halfway there, but still cautious.

 

“Wes?” she asked. “What about you?”

 

“A motto?” Wesley paused. He knew the truth would make him vulnerable. He wanted to throw caution to the winds, but it wasn’t in his nature. And yet—“You will always fail, and to fail means to lose everything you hold dear.”

 

Spike’s eyebrows went up, even though he knew half of that already. Really, Wesley’s motto wasn’t so different from his own. He looked at Nika. “What’s yours, then, luv? Can’t just leave us hangin’ like that.”

 

Nika gave them a wistful little smile. “My motto? Everyone you love dies.”

 

“An’ you thought we were morbid,” Spike said.

 

“I’m not morbid!” Nika replied, a trifle upset. “At least, it doesn’t _have_ to be morbid. If you know you don’t have much time with someone, then you make the most of the time you do have.”

 

“Point,” Wesley replied.

 

Nika shrugged. “Besides, it’s the truth. Everyone dies, including the people you love.”

 

Spike nodded. “True enough,” he murmured, thinking of watching Buffy fall from the tower, watching his mother turn to dust… “Right. Question for you lot. You could go back an’ change one thing, what would it be?”

 

Wesley found himself surprised that the vampire was getting into the game, but seeing the look on his face, he began to understand. Spike was comfortable with both of them, and he trusted them with his answers. You couldn’t ask the questions until you were ready for the answers—other people’s and your own.

 

“One thing?” Nika asked. “I don’t know. I suppose—” She fell silent, considering her answer carefully. “Danny and I saved for years to buy this house, and we finally managed about a year before he died. He wanted to go on a vacation though, back to Wales, and then to Europe, but we didn’t have the extra money. I told him we could go after we bought the house, but now I wish we had gone. Those memories would have been nice to have, and we could have bought it later.”

 

There was a melancholy sort of silence at the table before she turned to Wesley. “What about you, Wesley? What one thing would you change?”

 

What _would_ he change? There were so many things, so many mistakes. What if he hadn’t disrupted Angel’s attempt to help Faith? What if he had been a better Watcher to her, and she had never gone off the deep end? Or perhaps it might have been better if he’d never come to L.A. in the first place, or if he’d never taken Connor, or simply if he had told someone else about his suspicions. Or maybe he should have acted on his attraction to Fred that much earlier, and beaten Gunn out. Maybe that would have changed everything.

 

“’s alright, mate,” Spike said softly, interrupting his stream of regret. “Not the end of the world if you can’t pick one.”

 

Wesley shook his head. If he had made a different choice at any point along the way, he wouldn’t be here, sitting at this kitchen table, with Spike and Nika. He wished things had turned out better, but he wasn’t sure that he would have traded his place here for all the tea in China.

 

On the other hand—

 

“I had an opportunity to study languages, rather than going to the Watcher’s Academy.” Wesley remembered those days, even if they weren’t much happier than his present course. In those days, his father had ruled his life, his destiny had been pre-ordained, and he had been terribly lonely. “I wish I would have taken it. I wish I could have stood up to my father.”

 

Spike nodded, appreciating Wesley’s choice. They both had special regrets. “I would have made sure Doc took the dive off the tower with me, so Buffy didn’t have to die. I’d make sure she didn’t have to die.” He paused, and then added in a voice that had an edge to it, “Or I’d’ve made sure she stayed in the ground. Either way.”

 

There was another pregnant pause as they all considered Spike’s regret. Wesley had heard most of the story, both from Spike and from Angel. Not that the older vampire had been all that forthcoming about his meeting with the Slayer, but he had known Buffy was back. From what Spike had said, it was a difficult transition for her to make. And no wonder. In Wesley’s mind, if he knew he could be that happy dead, he would be seriously tempted to get himself back there.

 

The others turned their heads to look at him, and he realized that it was his turn to ask a question. Wesley wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask, seeing as how he would have to answer the question himself. Finally, he said, “Your happiest moment.”

 

Spike was the first to respond. “When Buffy invited me into her house again.”

 

Nika smiled. “The day Danny asked me to marry him.” She suddenly grinned, her smile lighting up her whole face, and then she giggled. The sound called forth smiles on the men’s faces as well, and she closed her eyes, remembering. “There were five other girls in the town I lived in who had their eye on Danny, and they were all prettier than I was. To be honest, I didn’t think I had a chance with him. He was so tall and strong and handsome, and there were so many other girls who would have loved to snag him.

 

“He gave me the ring, and I asked him to take a walk with me. I made sure that every single one of those girls saw us and the ring that day. I will forever remember the sight of their jealous faces.” There was such a smug, self-satisfied look on her face that Spike chuckled, and Wesley couldn’t help but laugh a little himself.

 

“Did they make your life miserable?” Wesley asked. “Afterwards?”

 

Nika shook her head. “No, they knew Danny would speak to their parents if they did. But before—it got bad a few times. It was worth it though, in the end.” She looked at Wesley. “What about you, _cariad_? What was your happiest moment?”

 

Wesley hesitated, trying to think, trying to remember a moment when he was most happy. It would have been before—before Connor, before Billy even. Maybe before he’d even known Fred. He frowned slightly, thinking, and then he said, “There was a girl who liked me. I think—I think perhaps even loved me. We went to a party together, and I knew she was with me, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman there.”

 

Spike met his eyes, and they both understood one another. There was a kind of pleasure you felt while escorting such a woman, knowing you were the only person she wanted to be with that night. It had happened so rarely for both of them, that they understood perhaps better than anyone. The sweet things in life always tasted better to those who’d only feasted on the bitter.

 

“You should stay here for Christmas, Wesley,” Nika said quietly. When he looked at her in surprise, she added, “It’s just Spike and me. We won’t mind.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

 

“Wouldn’t have asked if it was an imposition, mate,” Spike said softly.

 

Looking from one to the other, he finally nodded. Last Christmas—and Boxing Day—had been spent in a drunken stupor, trying not to think about being alone. It had been like trying not to think about a polar bear—the more you try _not_ to think about it, the more intrusive the thoughts become.

 

“Good,” Nika stated. “You haven’t had my scones yet, and I only make them on special occasions.”

 

“I’ll look forward to it,” Wesley replied.

 

“You’ll want to stay here overnight,” Spike said. “We open our gifts at midnight.”

 

Wesley wasn’t given a chance to argue. All three of them started cleaning up the kitchen, Spike and Nika arguing amiably over what movies they were going to watch. Spike wanted something with lots of gore, Nika wanted romance, and Wesley kept insisting he didn’t have an opinion every time they tried to get him in the middle.

 

In the end, they ended up watching _Terminator_, since it had both gore and romance. Somewhere in the middle of the movie, with Nika curled up on the couch next to him and Spike sprawled in the armchair, an unfamiliar feeling swept over Wesley. He must have gotten an odd look on his face, because Spike looked over at him in concern. Lifting his scarred eyebrow, he silently asked if the ex-Watcher was alright.

 

Wesley nodded, as he wasn’t hurting. It was more like—

 

He was happy. Content. Satisfied with his lot in life. He felt good. It had been so long, he hadn’t even recognized the sensation at first. Relaxing back into the couch, Wesley gave into it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about becoming too attached to this place and these people. He would think about it tomorrow.

 

~~~~~

 

Mike slammed the hood down on the old truck and wiped his hands on the rag looped through his belt. “And that’s all there is to it. She should run like a champ for you now, Dawn.”

 

Dawn leaned on the hood of her (new) old truck, feeling greatly satisfied. Mike was a year older, and had the reputation around school of knowing his way around an engine. They had started talking one day, and Dawn had told him about her old beater of a truck, mentioning that she wanted to know how to do some basic repairs. He had offered to teach her what he could. Dawn wasn’t sure what he was getting out of the deal, but Mike wasn’t complaining. Nor was he demanding any kind of payment, which was a good thing. Dawn had had her fill of guy troubles for a while after that stupid football player. The gossip had finally died down, but it hadn’t been pleasant.

 

“Thanks, Mike,” she said sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied easily. “I like working on cars, especially like this one. You have to have a computer and special equipment to work on the newer ones. With a truck like this, you can do a lot of the minor repairs, and even some of the major ones yourself.”

 

She shrugged. “Which is a good thing since I spent all my money getting this hunk o’ junk in the first place.” But she said it affectionately, patting the hood. It felt good to own something like this, to be that much closer to independence.

 

After Spike had left, Dawn had decided it was time to take charge of her own destiny. If Buffy could be so stupid as to hurt Spike that badly, it was time she started taking care of herself. Dawn had stopped stealing and started working. Babysitting, helping at the Magic Box, whatever small job came her way, she took it. The truck had been cheap, and it had started up immediately after she turned the key, two major points in its favor. According to Mike, she’d gotten a great deal. Even if the body wasn’t real pretty, the owners had put in a new engine recently, and they’d kept it in great shape.

 

She stole a glance at Mike. Her truck wasn’t the only thing around in great shape. “So what are you doing for Christmas?” her friend asked, leaning next to her.

 

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Probably just hanging out, you know. That kind of thing. You?”

 

He shrugged. “My grandma is in Texas. We’ll probably go there. It’s usually fun.” Mike hesitated. “You want to go to the movies sometime?”

 

“Sure,” Dawn replied. “Though, I swear, if you start spreading nasty rumors about me, I’ll kick your ass.”

 

Mike smiled. “I wouldn’t dare. The rumors have died down now, though. And most people didn’t pay any attention to them in the first place. I mean, it’s not like anyone ever thought they were true.”

 

“Oh? The girls didn’t think I was a ho and after all their boyfriends?” Dawn asked with an edge of bitterness to her face. “I know they aren’t saying that anymore, but I wish—”

 

“What?” Mike asked. “What do you wish?”

 

Even if it was a bad word, Dawn still used it. “I wish Spike could have been here.”

 

“Spike?” Mike sounded amused. “That sounds a little scary.”

 

Dawn smiled. “He can be. He’s like an older brother, you know? Spike took care of me while my sister was gone a couple summers ago. He’s in L.A.”

 

“You miss him,” Mike said.

 

Dawn nodded. “Every day.”

 

“You still see him?”

 

She shook her head. “No. Not anymore.” Dawn didn’t say that she might not see him ever again.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy sorted through the mail slowly, her pile—all bills—mounting. It was nearly Christmas, and she didn’t see why bills had to keep coming. Wasn’t this the time of the year to be all forgiving and hopeful? Hopeful was one thing she was not when it came to thinking about how she was supposed to pay her bills and make Christmas merry.

 

She stopped abruptly at one letter, addressed to Dawn in familiar handwriting. Buffy had been terribly curious the first time one of the letters had come, a little over a year ago. She’d had her suspicions about who was sending them, but she wasn’t sure. When she finally did ask her sister, Dawn had told her that it was Spike, but her sister hadn’t volunteered any information as to his whereabouts.

 

The Slayer had to admit that it was a relief to know that he was okay, or at least that he was still undead. Even though she’d tried very hard not to think about it, there had been several nights where she’d woken up dreaming of that night in the alley. Every time she had that dream, she would lie awake for the next few hours, wondering if he’d made it out of there before the sun came up. Knowing he was writing to Dawn was reassuring.

 

Of course, as soon as she thought that, Buffy remembered that it should have been a relief to have him out of Sunnydale. It should have been a relief to know that he was dust. After all, evil vampire.

 

Fingering the envelope, Buffy allowed herself to remember. She remembered Spike’s words to her after she’d come back from the dead, remembered how happy he’d looked to see her alive. She remembered the look on his face the first time they’d had sex, thinking they were making love.

 

She forced the thoughts back into their usual box. Dawn came in the kitchen a few minutes later, looking pink-cheeked from the slightly cooler weather they’d been having. “Hey, Buffy.”

 

“Dawn? You got a letter today.” She held out the cream colored envelope to her sister, watching as Dawn took it, giving Buffy an odd look.

 

“Thanks.” Dawn hesitated, obviously torn about something. “Do you think?” She stopped herself. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

 

Buffy schooled her face into a properly concerned expression. It was still so hard to make that particular face, still hard to be concerned about anyone’s pain but her own. “What is it, Dawn?”

 

Dawn wanted to ask if she could try to call Spike in L.A. She wanted to ask if she could get in her truck and drive down to see him. She wanted to ask that her family be as complete as possible, since it might be a long time before they could all be together again. Dawn wanted the moon, the sun and the stars, and she knew it.

 

Actually, all she really wanted was to see Spike again, but that wasn’t going to happen this century, not under her sister’s roof. Suddenly Dawn was overwhelmingly angry, hurt, disappointed—almost out of nowhere. “It’s nothing,” she replied, the bitterness back in her tone. “It wouldn’t happen anyway.”

 

Dawn wished she could _make_ Buffy pull her head out of her ass, but that wasn’t going to happen either. In fact, at the rate they were going, it might not ever happen.


	10. November 2005

**Chapter 10: November 2005**

 

Nika walked into the lobby of the Hyperion hotel late Friday afternoon. She, like nearly every other female in America, knew that the Friday after Thanksgiving kicked off the holiday shopping season. This meant that she could be certain of catching Angel at home, since very few males voluntarily stepped foot outside the doors of their homes. If her Danny was any kind of an example, most men chose to spend their Friday-after gorging (again) on leftovers and watching sports.

 

She glanced around the lobby of the hotel, having no way of knowing if she was seeing what she should be seeing. Wesley still refused to talk much about his time there, which she understood better than he might think. Sometimes, the happy times were more difficult to explore than the hard times. When the good times end, it was hard to go back there, if only because it was impossible to verbalize what had been lost. Nika herself had found it terribly difficult to talk about her parents, because to talk about them would be to admit fully what she had lost.

 

“Can I help you?” A tall black man came out from behind the lobby counter, with an expectant smile.

 

Nika returned the smile, mentally naming him. “This is Angel Investigations?”

 

“Yeah, you’ve come to the right place,” he assured her. “I’m Charles Gunn. Somethin’ I can do for you?”

 

“I was hoping to talk to Angel,” Nika replied. “Is he here?”

 

Gunn looked surprised at her forthright attitude, but finally nodded. “He’s upstairs.”

 

“I’ll get him,” Cordy said, coming into the lobby from the office. She’d done her shopping early in the day, wanting to get the good stuff off the racks before anyone else had the chance.

 

Cordy felt like she recognized the woman in the lobby from somewhere, but she couldn’t quite place the face or the name. She watched as Nika took a seat on one of the round chairs, and started up the stairs. As she approached Angel’s room, she could hear Connor’s voice.

 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. I just need my own place.” Cordelia stopped by his door, unwilling to interrupt, and wanting to eavesdrop.

 

“Connor, if this is about you not having girls in your room, including Dawn—”

 

Cordelia could almost _hear_ Connor rolling his eyes. “This isn’t about Dawn, Dad. If we want to be alone, there are other places we can go. I’m going to be twenty-one in a few months. Most people my age are already on their own. I just want some space.”

 

“But you do realize that, you know, being with Dawn, there are things—things that you need to know—” As Angel stumbled around, trying to initiate the “birds and the bees” talk, Cordy had to bite back a laugh.

 

Connor didn’t even try. “I’ve already had this talk.”

 

“You have?” Angel sounded peculiarly disappointed for someone who was having so much trouble moments before. “With who?”

 

“With Cordy, when she figured out Dawn and I were interested in each other,” the boy replied. “Oh, and Spike told me he’d kill me if I hurt her, but I feel the same way, so I understood.”

 

Cordy could hear Angel sputtering at the thought that _Spike_ of all people had spoken to his son of romantic things before he could. “Look, Dad,” Connor continued, running right over what were sure to be more protests from the vampire. “It’s not that I don’t like living here, but I want—I want something normal. I’m actually meeting some of Dawn’s friends, and thinking about going to college maybe, but I can’t bring anyone here. How am I supposed to explain that my dad doesn’t look that much older than me? Or half the things that walk through that door? I want somewhere I can bring people without having to explain my whole life.”

 

Angel was speechless, and Cordelia sighed. She had known this was coming, and to be honest, she was glad of it. Connor had made leaps and bounds in his adjustment over the last few years, and it was time that he set out on his own, and found out what he wanted from this new world he now lived in. It was the right thing, if only Angel could see it.

 

Apparently, Connor took Angel’s silence the right way—as in, his dad had no clue how to respond. “Just think about it. I’m not asking you to make a decision tonight.”

 

Connor came out the door of Angel’s room moments later, smiling in a pained way at Cordelia as he passed. She knocked on the doorframe as she entered, watching as Angel gave her the same pained smile. Really, they were both so much alike it was scary sometimes. “How much of that did you hear?” Angel asked.

 

“Enough,” she replied, with a smile. “He’s growing up, Angel. What did you expect?”

 

His face darkened. Granted, there wasn’t much of a change in his expression, but Cordelia knew how to read him like a book. “I expected to have more time before we had this conversation.”

 

Cordy sighed. She’d spent the last couple years trying to get Angel to soften his stance towards Wesley. So far, nothing doing. This thing between Connor and Dawn however, with the inclusion of Dawn’s friends, could change all of that. “Angel—”

 

“You knew about Connor and Dawn before I did,” he interrupted, his tone accusatory.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did. And before you ask, I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t any of your business. Come on, Angel, just because I want to know everybody’s business doesn’t mean I go around spilling their secrets. I remember what it was like to have a secret boyfriend. That was half the fun for a while.”

 

He looked frustrated. “But I should have been the one to have that talk.”

 

“You would have screwed it up,” Cordelia replied bluntly. “Connor needed information, and he needed good information. As a human. From a human. I don’t think you were really ready to discuss condoms.”

 

She could hear him swallow. “Condoms?”

 

“That’s right, Angel. Birth control, STD’s, all those things that humans have to worry about and vampires don’t.” Cordy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, what you would do without me—”

 

She let that sink in a moment before she broached the next topic. “Speaking of which, I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Connor is dating Dawn. Dawn’s friends include Wes. Which means, Connor will probably be hanging around Wesley and Spike quite a bit. If you don’t want to alienate your son, you’ll keep your feelings about both of them to yourself.”

 

When it looked like Angel was going to protest, she kept talking. “Besides, Angel, it’s been three years. I know Wes screwed up—big time—but you need to get over it.”

 

Angel looked at her mulishly. “He cost me years with my son, Cordy.”

 

“Yeah, he did,” Cordy said quietly. “But he had the best intentions, and he cost himself a lot more than that. I’m not saying you have to trust him again, or ask him to come back and work for you, but I think you need to let go of this a little bit. You have Connor back, and you guys are getting along. Don’t jeopardize that over some grudge against a man who once was your best friend.”

 

Angel’s expression didn’t change, and Cordelia decided not to push. He’d either figure it out or he wouldn’t; there wasn’t much she could do about that. “Moving on—there’s a woman downstairs who’s looking for you. I think she might be a client, so be on your best behavior.”

 

She followed him downstairs, curious as always. Nika had been talking with Connor, and now faced the vampire as he descended, an odd expression on her face. “Hello, Angel.” She greeted him as though they’d been introduced, and it took him a moment to figure out where he’d seen her before.

 

“You’re—you were with Wes the other night. At Caritas.” The tone of voice and his body language would have intimidated even the bravest soul, but Nika didn’t even flinch. In fact, all she did was raise an eyebrow, as though to dare him to make something of it.

 

Connor was the one to remember his manners. “Oh, Dad, this is Nika. Nika, this is my dad, Angel. Nika’s one of Dawn’s friends too,” the boy added pointedly.

 

Nika smiled gently. “Thank you, Connor. Angel, I need to talk to you, and it might be best if we do it in private.”

 

Already upset by Cordy’s reference to Wesley—the name that was never mentioned—Angel was not inclined to listen to reason. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it to my friends and colleagues.”

 

There was a moment of silence as Nika looked around the lobby, taking in the wary faces of Fred, Gunn, Connor and Cordelia. She didn’t want to be rude. On the other hand, she was really only concerned for Connor’s sake; she couldn’t care less about Angel’s feelings.

 

“Very well.” She was well aware that she didn’t look as though she posed much of a threat, but that didn’t bother her. She was fully convinced of the righteousness of her cause, and so was not afraid. “I want you to stay away from Wesley.”

 

Angel stared at her. “What? I don’t—”

 

“I understand that he hurt you,” she continued, disregarding his interruption. “And I know what it’s like to lose a loved one. I really do. But because I know what it’s like, I won’t let you hurt him.”

 

Angel was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It was one thing to try and kill Wes in the heat of the moment. It was another to remain stubbornly angry for a few years. But to have someone come into his hotel and suggest that he would kill a man in cold blood—that was something else altogether. “I would never harm Wes.”

 

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t trust vampires. At least, I don’t trust the ones I don’t know, and I don’t know you. After your display the other night, I wouldn’t be inclined to trust you even if I did, as it’s clear to me that you’re still angry with him. I’m here to warn you off.”

 

“Are you threatening him?” Cordy asked angrily. She didn’t know who this woman was, but no one got away with threatening her man.

 

Nika turned and looked at her, the calm expression on her face at odds with her words. “No, actually, I’d like to bribe him.” She turned back towards Angel, reaching into her bag and pulling out a round orb. Cordelia and Angel recognized it right away.

 

“An orb of Thessula?” Angel said, frowning. He looked at the woman, who was still regarding them all with such a calm air about her, that it was hard to know how to take her. “I don’t understand.”

 

Nika smiled. “Your soul still isn’t anchored, is it?” she asked quietly. “I can give you that.”

 

“In return for leaving Wes alone,” Angel said, beginning to understand.

 

Nika shrugged. “As to that, you and he will have to work that out on your own. I ask that you not harm him in any way, nor seek his harm in the future. If that means you have no contact, then so be it. But if you could forgive him, I think he’d like that. I want to protect him as best I can.” Her eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “Of course, if you do come after him, I’ll have to hurt you. Fair warning.”

 

Angel was quiet for a long moment. Having a stranger in fear of him—if not for herself, then for her friend—reminded him that Angelus was never so far away as he would like. And it was very Angelus of him to hold onto a grudge for this long. Hadn’t he been forgiven far greater wrongs? Wasn’t he still seeking redemption?

 

And this woman was offering to bring him one step closer to that place—was offering to put one more leash on his demon in return for something she shouldn’t have needed to ask for in the first place.

 

“Let’s go into my office,” he suggested, his countenance softening. “We should talk.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike growled his frustration. This wasn’t going well. He was supposed to meet Buffy, and he still had no idea what he was going to wear.

 

“You know, clothes are typically of more use while on your back, rather than strewn about the room.” The vampire turned to see Wesley standing in the doorway, with a superior expression on his face.

 

“Sod off,” he replied, turning back to consider the mess he’d made. The ex-Watcher was right. The contents of his closet were all over the room. Spike sank down onto the bed, the very picture of dejection and nervousness. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his hands muffling his words.

 

“Yes, well, I could see why you might feel that way,” Wesley replied. He came into the room, settling down on the bed next to his friend. “You’re meeting Buffy tonight?”

 

A grunt was his only reply. “Spike, I’m sure it will be fine. After all, she sought you out, and not the other way around. That’s usually a good sign.”

 

“I’m tired of lookin’ for signs from that bint,” he replied. “What the hell am I doin’, mate?” Spike demanded.

 

Wesley considered the question for a moment. “Perhaps you are merely getting closure,” he suggested. “You didn’t have much chance for that, from what you’ve told me. I don’t know. Maybe you could even be friends.”

 

Spike laughed hollowly. “Don’t think so. You don’t make friends with someone you were in love with.  Just doesn’t work.”

 

Wesley thought for a moment. He and Spike had actually become quite close over the past two years. You couldn’t fight side by side, save each other’s life repeatedly, and even share a few beers without coming to know a person rather well. And you didn’t become close without sharing their pain, without wanting to help them bear their burdens.

 

It was one of the greatest hurts that losing friends had entailed for him; not only was there the loss of the relationships, there was also the knowledge that there would be no one to help you bear your troubles.

 

Spike felt the bed move as Wesley stood, and while he heard the other man walking around, he didn’t look up. He felt like a teenager about to go on his first date, and it scared him. Not just the feelings, but the fear of what was to come next. He and Buffy’s relationship had never been what anyone would call healthy, and Spike didn’t think he could go back to that now.

 

“As Buffy was the one who contacted you, perhaps it will be different this time,” Wesley said.

 

Spike didn’t raise his head. “Dunno. I can’t—I can’t go back to what it was, you know?” He struggled with the words; Wesley thought he might choke on them. Spike, usually so quick witted and sharp tongued, now found it almost impossible to explain what he meant.

 

The vampire had little difficulty telling others what _they_ were feeling, and in fact, had an almost uncanny ability to identify others’ emotions. Articulating something other than rage, pain, or even love was next to impossible for himself, however. “I haven’t fed off a human in over four years, yeah?” he began. “Other than Nika, an’ that wasn’t much. It’s not about Buffy not bein’ right anymore. ‘s about you lot treatin’ me like a man, an’ not a monster.” He stopped, unsure of how to explain with more clarity, but Wesley understood.

 

“We are what is expected of us,” he said softly, understanding. “Although, Spike, the changes you have undergone are quite dramatic. I doubt that you could go back to what you were.”

 

Spike shrugged, doubtful. Wesley had put most of his clothing on hangers, back into the closet. “Maybe. I wonder, sometimes, if it hadn’t been Nika that I met, if I wouldn’t have eventually started feeding again.”

 

“Perhaps.” Wesley smiled. “I would say that the both of us were lucky bastards to have met her.”

 

Spike laughed. “I’d give you that one.” He took the clothing that the other man held out to him.

 

“Be happy,” Wesley advised him. “Whether it is with Buffy or someone else. In either case, at least make sure you are as presentable as possible. It does no good letting the other person see that they have gotten to you.”

 

“Present a strong front?” Spike asked, with a raised eyebrow, and then nodded slowly. The idea appealed to him, much as the idea of Buffy pursuing him had. Before, he had remade himself in order to impress her. Now, he had remade himself, but not for her. Perhaps it was high time that she saw he could change for reasons other than her happiness. “Thanks, mate.”

 

“You’re quite welcome,” Wesley replied, and then hesitated, adding slowly. “You know, Spike. There will always be a place for you here.”

 

Spike’s lips twisted up into a half-smile. “That’s good,” he replied. “Because ‘m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay, so how do I look?” Buffy asked her sister, standing and slowly twirling for her.

 

Dawn couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. Buffy had been running around like a madwoman for the last two hours, trying to get ready. And every time Angel or one of his crew asked her what was going on she’d given them the look of death and replied that it was none of their business. Of course, this time it wasn’t about hiding her relationship with Spike. Buffy really believed that it was no one else’s business.

 

Laughingly, Dawn said, “Buffy, you look great. You looked great in the last three outfits you tried on. I don’t see what the problem is.”

 

Buffy sat down on the bed next to her sister. “I’m just—scared, I guess. Last time, things with Spike got so twisted, so out of control. I can’t do that again, and I can’t seem to let him go either.”

 

Dawn sighed quietly. “Buffy, you do realize that just because he may still have feelings for you, doesn’t mean he’s going to want to be with you, right?”

 

Buffy laughed sourly. “After what I did to him, I’m surprised he even agreed to meet me tonight. It’s just—I feel as though I’ve gotten closure with Angel. I got it with Riley, last time he came to town. And now—”

 

“Now Spike’s the last one left,” Dawn murmured.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Something like that. Spike was in my heart, and he never knew it. He’s still there.”

 

That particular statement rendered Dawn speechless. “Buffy—”

 

The Slayer shrugged as though it was of no concern. “I let Angel go, Dawnie, and it was the hardest thing I ever thought I would have to do. If I have to let Spike go, I will. But I need to know one way or the other.”

 

Dawn didn’t say anything in reply, feeling suddenly both very old and very young. She wanted to give comfort, but didn’t have the words. “Are you going to tell him you’re pregnant?”

 

Buffy shrugged. She had told only those closest to her—in heart, if not in distance. Her closest friends, Dawn, and that was pretty much it. She hadn’t even told Angel yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Maybe over the Christmas holidays, part of which she would spend in L.A. But Giles had promised to come for New Years, and Willow was going to come back to Sunnydale with him. Even Xander was going to stay put for a while.

 

The Slayer was grateful for their support, and even for their willingness to put down everything and come running, as though this pregnancy was the next apocalypse. She couldn’t help but think that there was only one person she really wanted there, however. One person she knew would be up to the challenges of keeping the demon population down without her.

 

“If it comes up, I will,” she finally replied. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell him, it’s that I don’t know how to say it. ‘Oh, by the way, Spike, while you were gone, I got myself knocked up.’”

 

Dawn looked away, saying in a low voice, “You could get un-knocked up, if you wanted to.”

 

“I’ve thought about it,” Buffy admitted. “It’s not just being pregnant and single, but also being the Slayer. There’s a chance I won’t even be able to carry to term, you know. One wrong step while out on patrol—I know it might be smarter.”

 

She smiled suddenly. “On that other hand, that’s what Peter wanted, and I’m not real interested in giving in to him. Plus, this could be my only chance.”

 

Dawn nodded, feeling relieved. She hadn’t been sure Buffy really wanted this baby, but it seemed that she did after all. “Good luck tonight, Buffy.”

 

Her sister smiled, gave her a hug, and walked out the door, head high.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy wanted to get to the coffee house early for a number of reasons. She didn’t want Spike to think for a moment that she’d stood him up, for one. She also wanted to watch him walk in, as she hadn’t gotten much of a chance to observe him in Caritas. And part of it was that she would feel more comfortable being nervous and antsy with a mocha in her hands rather than at the hotel. Besides, Angel kept giving her weird looks. She needed to get out of there.

 

Not for an instant did she think that Spike might not show. He had always kept his promises, and then some. She took a sip of her drink and smoothed down the front of her pink sweater. It had been torture to find something to wear that wasn’t too flirty but still looked good.

 

She pushed up the sleeves, and then pulled them down again, always keeping an eye on the door. Buffy knew she hadn’t been this nervous before a date since—since sophomore year of high school with Owen. And look how well that had turned out.

 

On that rather sarcastic thought, the door swung open and Spike strode in. It didn’t help Buffy to realize that every woman’s eye was instantly on him. And why not? In dark gray and black, with his curly hair and uneven gait, he looked dangerous and vulnerable all at the same time.

 

Buffy took a deep breath. Oh yeah. The attraction was still there.

 

Spike spotted her immediately, slightly surprised to find her there early and obviously waiting for him. Not even noticing the other women who were watching him, he moved through the tables as smoothly as he could. A few days without any action meant that his leg was working as well as it ever did. He liked to think that Buffy wouldn’t notice his awkwardness.

 

“H’lo,” he said, unsure of what to say.

 

She smiled tentatively in turn. “Hi. Do you want something to drink? Hot chocolate?”

 

“I can get it,” Spike replied, but she was already up.

 

“It’s okay, I wanted another drink,” Buffy called over her shoulder as she headed for the counter.

 

Spike sat, feeling more than a little off balance. He didn’t remember ever doing this before. The last time they had even come close to sitting together amiably, sharing a drink, was that night in the Bronze, before she died. The night he had told her how he’d killed the Slayers. And that night, he’d had to cajole her into, well, everything. She hadn’t wanted to be there.

 

Tonight, Spike wasn’t sure he wanted to be here.

 

Oh, he wanted to be with her, but he didn’t want to all at the same time. Watching her wait in line at the counter, she looked different. She’d grown her hair out again, and it cascaded down her back the way he’d always loved. She looked like your typical southern California girl, out for a cup of coffee.

 

Spike frowned. He couldn’t figure out what this was—a date, a business meeting, friends… The meaning behind this little tête-à-tête mattered more than he cared to admit.

 

Buffy looked happier at least, and her figure was fuller, as though she’d actually put on some weight. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there since before she’d died, even though she still looked more serious than a girl—woman—her age should. But she looked better in general, and Spike knew he wasn’t the one responsible for putting the life back into her.

 

That was all he’d wanted, was to give her a little life back.

 

Buffy set his drink down in front of him, sitting down gingerly in her chair. Now that he was close, Spike sensed that something was different about her. He hadn’t a clue as to what it was, but it was a deep, fundamental change.

 

He pulled the plastic lid off his cup and stared at the melting whipped cream on top, not really wanting to look at the Slayer. “They didn’t have marshmallows,” she said softly. “I asked.”

 

Spike’s lips curved up into a half-smile. “That right? You remembered?”

 

“I remember everything.” There was a long silence before Buffy added, “Spike, I’m sorry.”

 

“I got your letter, Slayer.” His tone was gentler than his words.

 

She was silent, not knowing what else to say, and Spike was the one to finally speak. “So what’s going on with you, Buffy?”

 

It would have been an ordinary question if the person asking it wasn’t Spike, or if the woman sitting across from him wasn’t Buffy. The two of them didn’t ask or answer questions like that, not with each other, and yet it hung between them like some rare jewel.

 

Buffy laughed. “You know, I was supposed to ask you that. Ask you what’s going on with you now.”

 

He shrugged. “It’s alright, luv. You can answer.”

 

“No, you first,” Buffy replied stubbornly, wanting to try to do this the right way. Somewhere in her mind she’d decided that “the right way” meant finding out how Spike was doing, putting him first, not making it all about Buffy.

 

Spike looked amused. She looked imperious and intent and—like she actually cared. It was the last that got him talking. “Got the chip out.”

 

“Dawn told me,” Buffy said, when he seemed to be waiting for her reaction. “She said you weren’t hunting humans either. How come?”

 

Spike took a sip of his chocolate, hardly noticing the heat or the taste. He wasn’t sure he could taste anything but her scent on the air. “At first? I didn’t want you to be right.”

 

Buffy laughed ruefully. “Well, I was wrong, if that’s what you wanted to hear.” She looked away, a touch of shyness in her expression. “I’m glad.”

 

At her words, Spike felt some of the tension melt away. “After that, after I met Nika an’ Wesley, it was because they treated me like a man, an’ I couldn’t betray that.”

 

A stricken look flashed across Buffy’s face, and was quickly wiped away. Spike had already seen it, however, and he knew she was thinking about that night in the alley, thinking about what she had said to him. He went on, wanting to ignore the elephant in the room, not wanting to address the issue of how sorry she was.

 

Spike didn’t want to have to try and figure out if he had forgiven her yet.

 

“Wes an’ I fight demons for money. We get along alright. I live in Nika’s basement.” He managed to shrug without moving, the gesture contained only in his eyes. “Not much else to tell.”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” Buffy said, laughing a little.

 

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “What? That there isn’t much else to tell, or that I get on with anyone?”

 

She hesitated as she realized that she meant both. “I—I don’t know, Spike. I think there’s probably more to the story, but if that’s all you want to tell me, that’s okay.”

 

“But you think it odd that I get along with someone who’s not you, yeah?” he asked, suddenly feeling the need to attack. “Or maybe anyone who’s human.”

 

Buffy didn’t want to be honest. She really, really didn’t. Truth hurt, as Spike had demonstrated a number of times with his cutting remarks. “It surprises me,” she admitted reluctantly. “Maybe it shouldn’t, since you always got along well with mom and Dawn. It’s just—it’s obvious you belong here, and—I’ve never seen that before.”

 

“Maybe that’s because you weren’t willing to look hard enough,” Spike replied, an edge to his tone.

 

“Maybe,” she conceded.

 

He sighed. Spike hadn’t come to fight, no matter how crazy she might make him. “What about you?” he asked, wanting to change the subject. Knowledge was power, and he didn’t want to tell her so much about this new life of his that she would have more power over him. She still held his unbeating heart in her hands.

 

Buffy shrugged, suddenly unwilling to talk about her life with its myriad issues. She could still remember a time when she told him all her problems, but that was because he didn’t count, as he’d sung so eloquently. “Not much to tell,” she said reluctantly. “I slay, I work, I try not to die.”

 

“You still working at that hell-hole?” he asked.

 

“The Hellmouth?”

 

“The cow-hat place,” Spike replied, sounding both annoyed at her deliberate obtuseness and amused at the same time.

 

Buffy shrugged. “Receptionist and part-time claims adjustor for an insurance company. I actually like both jobs, and they pay more.”

 

“You going to go back to school?” he asked, drawing her out, prying her open with questions as he’d often been able to do with silence.

 

Buffy sighed. “Maybe, someday. When I can afford it, or when Dawn’s out of college, or never. At this stage, never is looking a lot more likely.”

 

Spike wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to pull the world off her shoulders. He wanted to offer up his undead body as a sacrifice on her altar.

 

It pissed him off.

 

He had worked hard at forgetting her for so long, and now he felt like he was sliding right back to where he started. “What the bloody hell is this, Slayer?” he demanded, his voice harsh and gravelly. “Why now? Why are you comin’ to me three years later?”

 

The words came rapid-fire, hitting Buffy like a series of bullets. If she was honest with herself, what she wanted from him was forgiveness. She wanted to say she was sorry, and she wanted him to say that it was forgiven a long time ago, and then—What? Walk off into the sunset together? Part as friends? She hadn’t a clue.

 

That was what she wanted, but she had promised herself that she would answer his questions, submit to his demands, up to a certain point. She owed him that much. “I broke up with my boyfriend about a month ago.”

 

“What does that have to do with me?” he demanded, interrupting her.

 

A little of the old Buffy came into her eyes. “Would you just let me finish?” she asked, starting to get frustrated. This meeting wasn’t going how she thought it would. Not that she’d known how it was going to go, but this wasn’t it. “I—when he broke up with me, what he said, I could hear myself in his words.”

 

She took a deep breath. Vocalizing her own emotions wasn’t easy at the best of times, and this definitely wasn’t the best of times. “He was a jerk, and I’m not sorry he left. But I started looking back on all the guys I’ve dated, and I think that what I regret most, happened with you.”

 

He took it the wrong way, and not the way she meant it. Buffy could see Spike’s face harden, his eyes turn icy. “That’s right. You shouldn’t have slept with a dead thing, Slayer. Excuse me.”

 

He got up to go, but Buffy’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement. “No, not sleeping with you. My biggest regret is that I slept with you for all the wrong reasons, and that I hurt you. That’s what I regret.”

 

Spike was still under her hand, the normal responses of a body absent. Not even his chest moved in the rhythm of breathing that was still so much of a habit for him, though not a necessity. They stood in their tableau of longing—Buffy’s hand, Spike’s face, and anyone who looked could see they had been lovers. It was just that obvious.

 

Slowly, he took his seat again, feeling both relieved and bereft when Buffy pulled her hand back. “So, the wanker left. Any particular reason why, or was he just a jerk?” Spike wasn’t sure why it was important, but it was.

 

“Both.” Buffy hesitated. She still wasn’t sure she should tell Spike about her pregnancy, but she wanted to. She could still remember a time when he might have been the first she told, if only because she could be certain of trusting him with the information. “I’m pregnant.”


	11. February 2005

**Chapter 11: February 2005**

 

“You have to admit it was funny, Spike,” Nika said, trying to get through the vampire’s macho front. “I know I heard you laugh a couple times.”

 

“I did no such thing,” Spike replied indignantly, although with a small smile. “It was a bloody stupid movie, an’ he was a complete prat.”

 

Nika laughed. “That was supposed to be part of his charm!” she protested.

 

“No one is charmed by a git like that,” Spike replied, a hint of seriousness coming through his voice. “They get laughed at. Consistently.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “I found him charming.” She gave him a naughty little smile. “In point of fact, I find you charming.”

 

Spike’s eyes widened. “Take that back! ‘m not a prat!”

 

“Oh, no?” Nika replied coyly. “Prove it then.” She started running, giggling madly. Spike wasn’t working too hard at catching her. They’d decided to go out to the movies together, not a date, just a night out. Nika had wanted some entertainment, and since Wesley didn’t seem to be making any moves in her direction, she’d gone for the next best thing and asked her best friend.

 

Spike loved to see Nika happy and laughing like this. It was all too rare an occurrence to see her acting like a giddy school-girl. She was usually so calm and controlled. So he was happily engaged in her merry little game when pulled up short by a demon coming in front of him with a wooden pike.

 

“Nika!” he called. The vampire was rewarded in a few moments by her appearance, flanked by two more demons of the same species. One was chattering away at her in a language Spike didn’t recognize, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. There was no way to get to her without being impaled. “What—”

 

The pike jabbed him in the chest, and Spike took a step back, away from Nika and the demons. “No, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out to grab the arm of the one threatening him. “He’s a friend.” They said something else, and she frowned, insisting, “No, really, it’s okay.”

 

She looked at Spike. “I need you to get Wesley. I can understand them a little, enough to know they want me to come with them and help deliver a baby, but I need his language expertise.”

 

Spike sighed. The demon had put down his very long stake and was regarding him with suspicion. “Are you sure, luv? This lot doesn’t look very friendly.”

 

She shrugged. “They’ve been watching for me all evening, and then they saw a vampire chasing me. What would you think?”

 

“Then where are they takin’ you, Sweet?” Spike asked. He took a step towards her, but the demon raised its pike again. They weren’t a bad looking lot, if not very friendly. Mostly humanoid, with bluish skin and purple eyes. But they had Nika, and so Spike wasn’t feeling very comfortable.

 

Nika grimaced. “I’m not really sure. But if you can get Wes here in the next thirty minutes, they’ll wait for him. I hope.”

 

He hesitated for another moment, and then took off.

 

Spike would have given anything for a cell phone as his feet pounded pavement and grass. In the face of more people and more traffic, he practically flew up the side of a building using the fire escape and went by roof-top the rest of the way. With his vampire speed, going full out, it took him fifteen minutes to reach the ex-Watcher’s apartment. Too much time.

 

He pounded on the door of 105, waiting a few seconds, and then pounded frantically again. “Wesley! Open up!”

 

The door swung open to reveal a rumpled looking man in hastily thrown on jeans and a sweater. “What the bloody hell do you want, Spike? And will you keep it down? The neighbors will call the police otherwise.”

 

“It’s Nika,” Spike said, ignoring his irritation, and moving on to the important topic. “We went to a show and got stopped on the way home. She says they want her to deliver a baby, but she doesn’t speak the language an’ if we don’t get back there in—” He checked his watch. “—ten minutes now, they’re gonna leave without you.”

 

Wesley didn’t hesitate once he understood the seriousness of the situation. Quickly pulling on a pair of shoes, he grabbed a jacket and an ax, and followed Spike out the door. They took his motorcycle, since Wesley couldn’t move at vampire speed, and Spike was limping badly from the exertion. 

 

It was a mark of Spike’s worry over Nika that he didn’t even protest the pink helmet. They made it to the park in ten minutes by virtue of some very scary driving by Wesley, but Nika and her demon escorts had already gone.

 

Both of them nearly tumbled off the bike in their haste to get to her. Spike took a deep whiff of air and homed in on the direction they had taken with little effort. “That way.”

 

A hundred yards deeper into the park, and they spotted the little group. Spike called out to Nika, and the demons spun, weapons at the ready. Nika called out to both of them. “No, it’s really okay.” She looked at Wesley in relief. “Please tell me you know their language.”

 

Wesley hesitated briefly, and then began speaking in the same odd click-clack language that the demons had been chattering on in earlier. The one with the pike replied quickly, brandishing his weapon and looking menacingly at Spike. The ex-Watcher nodded, and finally sighed. “Apparently, one of their seers told them to expect a healer tonight, and told them she would be with a vampire. A member of their clan is in childbirth, and it isn’t going well.”

 

Nika nodded. “That’s what I thought. Are they going to let you come along?”

 

“I think they might, especially as I can speak the language. Spike is going to have to stay behind, however.”

 

As Wesley had expected, his announcement was greeted with a vociferous protest from the vampire. “Not on your life, mate! ‘m not lettin’ them just take her like that.”

 

“They promise not to harm her, Spike,” Wesley explained patiently. “But the Lidraki don’t like vampires, and they’d sooner stake you than let you see where they live. I’m sorry.”

 

“Spike, really, it’s okay,” Nika assured him. “Wesley can stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

 

He let out a growl of frustration, his eyes sparking yellow. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

 

Wesley passed over the keys to his bike. “Take the motorcycle back to Nika’s,” he instructed. “That leg of yours is in no shape to be walking home right now. I’ll make sure she gets back safely.”

 

Spike hesitated, and then sighed. It was a mark of his trust for the other man that he acquiesced. There weren’t many people that he trusted to look after those he cared about, but he trusted Wesley. The ex-Watcher would look after Nika and see her safely home, or he would die in the attempt. From the looks on the other demons’ faces, they would make sure Spike was dust before they let him come one more step closer. “Meet you back there, then. Take care of her.”

 

Wesley watched him stalk away, the effect only slightly muted by his limp. He could see the tension in the lines of Spike’s shoulders, and relaxed as the Lidraki lowered their weapons and motioned for him to walk with them. Placing a supportive hand on Nika’s elbow, he moved close to her. “Alright there, Nika?”

 

“I’m okay,” she replied softly. “Although, I was a bit nervous until you showed up.”

 

Wesley smiled. It felt good to be relied upon, to have a friend say she felt safer when he was near. “How did you know I would be able to speak their language?”

 

Nika smiled. “I didn’t know there was a language you don’t speak.”

 

She was exaggerating, but not by much. Wesley’s linguistic skills were outstanding to say the least. “There are a few,” he replied, slightly embarrassed by the implied compliment. They walked along silently after that, the demons murmuring to each other softly, Wesley’s hand at her elbow, then her back.

 

Nika felt the fear drain out of her. It was difficult to be afraid with Wesley walking so close, unruffled competence radiating out of his lean form. Nika had always gotten the sense from him that there was little to worry about if he were taking care of matters. Really, that was why he and Spike made such good partners. The vampire’s impulsiveness kept the ex-Watcher on his toes. Wesley’s almost preternatural calm often got them out of trouble.

 

In a situation such as this one, Nika couldn’t help but be grateful for his presence. She stole a glance at him, and he caught her eye, smiling in a reassuring manner. She moved just a little closer in response; they might have been lovers out for a walk. No gap could be seen between their bodies, and his hand pressed just a little more firmly at her back.

 

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a dilapidated old apartment building. The brick-work was crumbling, and there was graffiti in the front entrance, but the demons seemed to relax as soon as they entered. “It’s the demon Projects,” Nika murmured, and was rewarded by a quirk of Wesley’s lips.

 

The demons led them up a set of rickety stairs to an apartment redolent with the scents of blood, herbs, and other matter that was best left unknown. A female Lidraki came up to them, chattering away. Wesley listened intently to her drawn-out explanation, finally turning to Nika. “She says that the mother did not perform the proper rituals in the last month, and that’s why she’s having problems with the birth.” He hesitated slightly and then added, “She also says that the baby’s father was not Lidraki, and it’s having trouble fighting its way out of the birthsac.”

 

“Where is she?” Nika asked, becoming all business. Wesley translated the question, and the female led them through a curtained doorway. There was a blue-skinned, pregnant Lidraki on a mattress that lay on the floor. The room was hardly what she would call clean, and certainly not the ideal place to give birth, but Nika knew she would have to work with what she was given.

 

She knelt down by the mother, wordlessly asking permission with her eyes. The demon nodded, and Nika felt along her abdomen, feeling the contractions rippling across the taut skin. It wasn’t terribly different from a human mother, and Nika was oddly reassured by this. “Wesley, what do you know about these rituals?”

 

He had squatted down on his heels next to her, watching with an intensity that it seemed only Wesley and Spike could ever produce. “Not much, I’m afraid,” he replied. “However, from what the woman said, Lidraki use the rituals to soften the placenta—for lack of a better term—as it is unusually tough. The rituals, whatever they might be, coupled with the outgrowths on the backs of their hands, help the baby fight its way out into the world.”

 

Nika’s face softened. “Poor kid. No rituals and a half-breed means that he’s having trouble.”

 

“Something like that,” Wesley agreed. His eyes met hers. “What would you like me to do?” He looked so capable in that moment that Nika found herself more than a little bit in love with him. She had loved her husband, but he’d have turned green and run in a situation like this.

 

“Have you ever been present at a birth before?” she asked.

 

Pain flashed across his face, then he went stoic again. “I know a little bit about delivering a child, yes.”

 

“You know a little bit about everything, don’t you?” Her tone was amused, and Wesley looked up at her sharply, trying to decide if she were making fun of him. But her face was admiring, and he could tell she found his seemingly endless store of knowledge reassuring, rather than annoying.

 

He shrugged. “I try.”

 

“Ask her if she’ll bring clean, hot water and a sharp knife. Or maybe like a big knitting needle. If the birthsac needs to be broken, we’re going to have to help the child out.” Nika looked at the laboring Lidraki. “I don’t know that we’ll be in time to save the baby, but if we don’t do something soon, we’ll definitely lose the mother.”

 

Wesley asked for what they needed, and the other demon left the room, leaving Nika to continue her examination. Over the next few hours as they both worked to deliver the unborn child, she found herself thankful for Wesley’s presence. He fetched what she needed, translated her questions and reassurances, and comforted the mother tirelessly.

 

When she found herself with both hands busy and sweat dripping down her nose, he pulled a clean handkerchief from somewhere and wiped her face. At no point did he show an inclination to run, nor any kind of impatience.

 

Finally, Nika managed to guide a blue-skinned baby out into the warm air. Normally, that kind of color would have alarmed her, but as the child—obviously a male—began to scream, it seemed that he would survive. The baby was noticeably more human-looking than his mother, and Nika couldn’t help but feel a pang. Danny had been a half-breed as well.

 

Wesley took the child from her, wrapping him in a blanket that the older female gave to him, placing him against his mother’s breast. The whole time he was murmuring something in that click-clack language that she’d be willing to bet were assurances that her baby was large and healthy and remarkably attractive. There was awe and wonder and a hint of longing in his eyes that tugged at Nika’s heart.

 

Now that the child was born, there were female Lidraki streaming into the room, hovering about the mother and beginning to chant and chatter, cleaning the mother and child and making both more comfortable.

 

The female Lidraki who had greeted them now ushered them out the door, chattering in what was obviously relief, pressing something into Nika’s hands. She looked down at the present and saw a necklace that glinted with what was obviously precious stones and metals. “Oh, no, I can’t,” she protested, thinking of the squalid surroundings.

 

Wesley grasped her arm, stilling her words, smiling and speaking in the demon-language. He looked over at her intently. “The child you just saved was important to them, more important than what you hold. To refuse it would be a grave insult.”

 

Nika nodded, closing her fingers around the necklace again. “Tell her thank you, then, Wesley.”

 

He did so, the words tripping off his lips so easily it amazed her. Nika thought about the first time he had spoken to her in Welsh, the familiar words of her childhood flowing so readily. She thought perhaps that was the moment she first began to fall in love.

 

Wesley led her quickly out of the apartment building, and both of them could see the first fingers of dawn thrusting up into the sky. “I’ll walk you home.”

 

“I would hope so. You have to get your bike anyway, right?” Nika paused thoughtfully. “Maybe you should stay at my place today. You’re tired. I’d hate for you to fall asleep on your way home.”

 

Wesley seemed to freeze, become terribly still under her fingers as though her suggestion were improper for some reason. And then he relaxed slightly. “Alright. That’s probably wise.”

 

He seemed to have forgotten that there was no more danger, offering her the support of his arm as though she still needed it. Wesley could feel her warmth even through the double layer of shirt sleeve and jacket, smell her—a mixture of faint perfume and sweat. It wasn’t unpleasant.

 

“So what were you and Spike doing when the Lidraki found you?” he asked quietly, striving for pleasant small talk and hopefully keeping the jealousy out of his voice.

 

“We went to see a movie,” Nika replied with a smile, thinking of her and Spike’s teasing on the way home. “It was one of those sappy romances; I made him take me.”

 

Wesley smiled in return, but there was a hint of pain there. “That’s good, that you have someone to take you to a show.”

 

In spite of his efforts, Nika caught a hint of emotion in his tone that didn’t belong there. “We didn’t think you’d want to come, Wesley,” she admitted. “You’ve both been so busy lately, I thought you could use an evening to yourself without the two of us around.”

 

“I don’t mind the two of you around,” he admitted in a low voice, as though she’d dragged the confession out of him. “And—and I don’t mind just…”

 

As he trailed off, Nika reached over and grabbed the hand that had been at her waist, giving it a squeeze. “When the bloody hell will you realize that we like having you around?” she demanded. “It’s no chore to be with you, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Whatever, or whoever, put that idiotic idea into your head ought to be shot.”

 

His lips twitched in amusement at her vehemence. “Is that right?”

 

“That’s absolutely right,” Nika replied, a touch of anger still in her voice. “Wesley, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. And, just so you don’t need to ask, Spike and I were not on a date tonight. We’re very good friends, and that’s it.”

 

“But you and he…” Wesley stopped, not wanting to give away the fact that he’d actually _asked_ the vampire what his relationship with Nika entailed.

 

Nika rolled her eyes. “Yes, we did, and it was a long time ago. It was just the one time, and it happened because we were both lonely and needed some comfort. I told you when we first met that’s what Spike’s relationship to me was. Misery and comfort.”

 

“And then?” Wesley couldn’t help but ask, a bit of bite in his tone.

 

She smiled. “And then we discovered that we didn’t just understand each other, we also liked each other. Not unlike you and him. Or you and I.”

 

Wesley recognized the kindness—and the truth—in her tone, but he wanted something more from her than that. He wanted to be more than understood and understanding, more than liked. He’d been slowly coming to care for Nika, but tonight had clinched it for him. She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense, but she was pretty, and brave, and compassionate. The way she had helped that Lidraki mother, even though she was a demon, even though Nika must have been frightened—Wesley was struck by it. By her heart, in every sense of the word.

 

After he had lost Fred, after she had chosen Gunn, Wesley had promised himself that he wouldn’t go there again. He didn’t want to fall in love. Lilah Morgan had been perfect for his needs—there was sex, but not enough true attraction to keep him. Perhaps eventually there might have been more, if either of them had been able to bend just a little, to move just a little closer together on their continuum of gray.

 

Nika was a bad bet, though. Wesley was absolutely certain that if he made a bid for her affections, he would find that she’d fallen for Spike. They had a closeness that he envied, a closeness that he could never hope to match.

 

As if reading his thoughts and the tension they engendered, Nika’s arm slipped through his, holding on firmly. “I’m glad you were with me tonight, Wesley,” she said softly, and again almost reading his thoughts, added, “And not just because you speak the language either.”

 

She sighed. “You make me feel safe.”

 

Wesley wondered if she understood what a precious gift those words were to him.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was waiting inside for them, as the early morning light made it difficult for him to keep watch from the porch. He stood as they entered, watching the both of them with wary eyes, relief creeping in when he saw they were unharmed. He couldn’t smell any human blood, and he felt the worry seep out of his bones. Wesley had kept her safe, as he’d promised.

 

“Get the little nipper all safely delivered then, Nika-luv?” Spike asked. He saw a tightening of Wesley’s jaw when he used the endearment, and filed that observation away for future use.

 

She smiled at him. “It was a boy. Wesley was a huge help.”

 

“More help than I would have been,” Spike admitted cheerfully. “Don’t know the least bit ‘bout deliverin’ babies. Good job he went with you then.” He could be tactful when he wanted to be.

 

“See my payment?” she asked, holding out the necklace to him.

 

Spike, who was a near-expert at identifying and appraising treasure, whistled under his breath. “This is a fair treasure, Sweet. My guess, it’s something along the lines of a family heirloom.”

 

“They said the child was important, but not why,” Wesley said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

 

Spike threw him a worried look, and then took a closer look at the both of them. They were clearly tired and covered in birthing fluids and grime. “You both need to get cleaned up and get to bed.” Turning to Wesley, he said, “You can use my shower, mate. Couch downstairs folds out.”

 

Wesley blinked. He was still unused to these little gestures from Spike, the marks of caring that belied his often callous, brash attitude towards those around him. Every so often Spike would act more like a nursemaid than a vampire, and it shocked the hell out of him.

 

“I have some clothing you can borrow,” Nika said, her words punctuated by a huge yawn. “I’ll grab them for you, but then I’m going to take Spike’s advice.” She went into her bedroom, coming out a few moments later with a bundle of clothing, which she handed to Wesley. Much to his bemusement, she leaned up and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, _cariad_.”

 

The ex-Watcher stood there for a long moment, not quite knowing how to respond to that. He felt Spike’s hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the basement stairs. “Time for all good boys to be in bed,” the vampire rumbled, obviously amused. “And next time, mate? Turn your head a bit. You’ll catch her on the lips.”


	12. November 2005

**Chapter 12: November 2005**

 

“I wonder how Spike is doing,” Wesley said, thinking out loud. Nika cast him an amused look over the kitchen table. He was actually relaxing for once, reading a new adventure novel while Nika read her mail. She had laughed the first time she’d seen him with a non-research book. He never read quite what she would expect him to—usually mass-market paperbacks with spies and gadgets, or murder mysteries.

 

Her reserved ex-Watcher read blow-em-up books; Spike read poetry. It seemed an oxymoron, but Nika had long since realized that they were two sides of the same coin, her guys.

 

“You sound like a mother hen,” she said. Wesley looked up sharply, trying to see whether she was teasing him. He could never tell any more. He’d so often been on the sharp side of someone’s tongue, it was hard to know whether such joking was meant in good fun or not. Slowly, but surely, he was coming to be comfortable with Nika and Spike’s good-natured snarking, but it was taking some time.

 

He smiled slightly, some of her humor reflecting in his eyes as well. “I suppose, but—”

 

“You worry,” she finished for him. Nika gave him her special smile, the one reserved only for Wesley, though he hardly knew it yet. “We all worry about each other, Wesley; it’s what families do.” She went back to her mail, saying as she did so, “I’m sure Spike’s fine. From the letter Buffy sent him, she’s hardly planning on harming him.”

 

There was another long silence as they went back to their reading, the smells of the stew and fresh bread Nika had made filtering through the kitchen. It was a comfortable, domesticated scene, and if Wesley thought about it too hard, he could hardly believe that he was here.

 

Nika let slip a curse that had Wesley blinking and looking up. Even if he didn’t speak Welsh, he would have known what she was saying just from her tone of voice. “Love?”

 

She looked up, surprised at the endearment, and not fully aware that she had spoken aloud. When she realized that she had, a light flush lit her cheeks. “Sorry, Wesley.”

 

“Has something disturbed you?” he pressed.

 

Nika sighed. “_Nain_ is coming to visit over Christmas.”

 

Wesley might have understood her outburst if it had been his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them since last Christmas, and was still debating over whether or not to call this year. On the other hand, he’d been under the impression that Nika and her grandmother got along quite well. “I thought you two were close.”

 

She repeated her sigh. “We are. It’s just that she has certain expectations which I haven’t yet fulfilled, and she’ll ask me why I haven’t.” Nika gave him a weak smile. “I’m the last, you see. _Nain_ doesn’t have any other children or grandchildren, and she’s waiting for me to remarry and have babies.”

 

“I see,” Wesley said carefully, because he did. It wasn’t just his utter failure as a Watcher that disappointed his father; it was also his failure to marry an appropriate woman and carry on the family name. Of course, by the time he’d been of an age to attempt such a feat, he was of no mind to do things the way his father had. Nor had he any intention of forcing his progeny into the Council, whatever their surname. “Do you want children?”

 

This time her smile was infinitely sad. “Yes. Ever since I was very little, I had three goals in life: to be a midwife like _nain_, to marry, and to have children. It might be silly and old-fashioned, but that’s what I wanted. I managed the first two, but Danny and I wanted to wait for a few years before starting a family. When we tried to get pregnant, nothing happened.”

 

Nika got up, moving around briskly, as though to dispel the memories. “We went to specialists, human and demon, and they all told us the same thing. Danny couldn’t. Something to do with being a half-breed, you know?”

 

“So you couldn’t have children,” Wesley murmured, feeling a pang of sympathy.

 

“No, we couldn’t,” she replied, stirring the stew and checking on the bread, finally turning to look Wesley in the eye. “And since about a year after he died, _nain_’s been asking when I was going to start dating again. She’s kind enough, but I know what she wants from me. To be honest, I’d love to give it to her, for both our sakes.”

 

Wesley stared at her. He wanted to ask if she’d ever consider a failed Watcher as husband and father material. Sitting in this kitchen, as he had so many times in the past, he almost believed it possible. Almost. “Would you—” He stopped, unwilling to put himself more at risk than he was already.

 

Nika looked at him with a searching gaze, her normally gentle eyes piercing. “Would I what, _cariad_?”

 

He shook his head, and she came to stand next to his chair, looking down into his troubled eyes. “What is it, Wesley?”

 

“I—I just thought we might—go out.”

 

The hesitancy in his voice told Nika everything she needed to know. She could see both the longing and the fear. “Who was she, Wesley?”

 

“Who was who?” he asked hoarsely.

 

“Who was the woman who convinced you that you couldn’t win? Who rejected you?” Nika stroked his face with a gentle hand, feeling the stubble like soft sandpaper. “Who made you think that I would say no?”

 

Wesley swallowed, hypnotized by her words and her gaze. “You and Spike—”

 

“Spike, as you will notice, is out with Buffy, and will forever be pining after her.” She ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Spike and I are like very close friends, or siblings. I always wanted a brother, you know. Though that idea throws a certain ‘ick-factor’ on our brief affair, as Dawn might say. My feelings for you are on a different plane entirely.” Nika sighed. “What was her name, Wesley? Let us once and for all exorcise this ghost you insist upon haunting you.”

 

He blinked. “Her name—her name was Fred. I—She’s with Gunn. After what happened, with Connor, she told me not to come back to the hotel.”

 

Nika kissed him. It was the first time their lips had touched, the first time she had so openly declared her affection for him. Taking Spike’s words to heart, she had decided that she would not wait on Wesley. When she pulled back from the kiss, she said quietly, but so intensely he could not doubt her, “She was daft. I choose you, Wesley. Just you.”

 

At her words, Wesley could feel long-open wounds healing. She salved his heart with her declaration. No one had ever _chosen_ him before; even the Council, making the decision to appoint him as Faith’s Watcher, had bowed to his high marks and his father’s pressure. No one had ever marked him as their own—except perhaps Virginia, and she had not realized the cost. She had left because of it.

 

Nika not only knew, she had already paid the price.

 

Something inside him cracked open, broke, released. For a spectacular moment he felt utterly free. He felt special. Wesley had never really felt special before.

 

He guided her face back down to his, taking his time. There was no hurry—she had chosen him. Wesley thought she tasted both sweet and bitter, and he could feel both her urgency and her patience. Her motto and its meaning flitted through his mind, and he understood that they had all the time in the world, and no time at all. This woman played for keeps, because it was the only way she knew.

 

And she had chosen him.

 

The buzzer on the oven went off, finally bringing them back to reality. Nika pulled back, resting her forehead against his ever-so-briefly as she went to pull the bread out of the oven. “Are you still hungry?” she teased, a light in her eyes.

 

Wesley smiled in turn, and his stomach growled, answering her question. They both laughed, and Nika suddenly looked shy. “Are you—I mean, if you don’t want—”

 

“You’re what I want,” he replied quietly. Wesley wasn’t sure if he was jumping in too quickly or not, but he went ahead anyway. “I’ve been in love with you since that night we delivered the baby.”

 

Nika glared at him, going from sweet to angry in no time flat. “And you didn’t say anything!”

 

“I wasn’t sure you felt the same way,” he explained, defensiveness creeping in. “I thought—you and Spike…”

 

Nika rolled her eyes. “I know you knew better than that,” she replied. “Besides which, you could have died—”

 

She broke off, busying herself at the stove, and Wesley asked tentatively, “Are you certain you’re okay with this, Danika? I know that what I do is dangerous…”

 

“What you do makes a difference,” she said quietly. “What I do makes a difference too. I won’t tell you that I don’t worry, that I’m not scared nearly to death of losing you too, but I will not let that fear stop me from going forward. I fell in love with you, and part of you is your job.”

 

“It’s what I’m good at,” he explained.

 

Nika turned to smile at him, her eyes joyful and sad all at the same time. “No, Wesley. You’re good at a great many things. But this is what makes you happy, and I have no business denying you that.” She placed a plate of freshly baked bread on the table, pausing to touch his shoulder. “Please promise you will not take any chances that are unnecessary. I understand the necessary ones, but…”

 

“Do you think I’m anxious to leave you?” he replied, standing and pulling her into his arms. Wesley stood there for a moment, relishing the feel of her body pressed against his, her head buried in his shoulder, her arms around his waist. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Wesley asked wistfully after a few moments. “You could have anyone.”

 

“Which is why I want you,” she replied stubbornly. “Now, you need to eat.” Nika grinned up at him. “If things go well, you’ll need your energy later.”

 

~~~~~

 

“You’re what?” Spike asked, feeling as though he were choking on the words. “Who is he?” He thought he should have known. The demon in him had sensed the changes, but he’d refused to name them, lest by naming it he made it real. Buffy’s implications were obvious. Whoever the father was, he’d left her on her own. Wanker.

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow, looking amused at the shadow of jealousy that flared in his blue eyes. She felt a thrill of joy as she realized that not only was it jealousy, but anger—anger that this unknown man had gotten her pregnant and left. “I’m not going to give you his name just so you can go rip his throat out.”

 

He didn’t bother to deny that the impulse had been there. “Why are you tellin’ me this?”

 

“I don’t know, Spike,” Buffy admitted. “I just wanted you to know.”

 

Spike stood abruptly, and she was suddenly frightened that he was going to run off again—leave and never come back. This time, she would have no reason for searching him out. “Let’s walk.”

 

Buffy didn’t ask. She simply stood in one fluid motion and followed him out of the café. There was the flare of his lighter, and she could smell smoke as Spike lit a cigarette with practiced ease. Strolling along the street, Buffy had to keep biting her tongue. She wanted to beg, to demand, cajole and coax him into sharing his thoughts.

 

It was pointless, wrong even. She had lost any rights to him that night in the alley.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked eventually. His words floated out into the noise of L.A. after dark, and she could almost see them hanging in the light from the streetlamp.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are you okay?” Spike repeated patiently. “Seein’ the doc, gettin’ all those pregnant-lady vitamins, all that.”

 

Buffy frowned. How the hell did he know what a pregnant woman needed? “Spike, what do you know about being pregnant?” she asked, careful to keep all emotion out of her tone.

 

Apparently, she wasn’t as successful as she might have liked to be, since she could see his lips quirk upward. “Nika’s a midwife. ‘ve picked up a bit, livin’ with her.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy desperately wanted to know what his relationship with this Nika person entailed, but again, she hadn’t the right. She was having another man’s baby.

 

“We’re not ‘together,’” Spike said softly, reading her mind, the expression on her face, the stiffness of her posture. “Just friends, is all. Like me an’ Dawn.”

 

“Oh,” Buffy said again, feeling incredibly lame for being unable to come up with something more interesting to say. “I’m so sorry, Spike,” she whispered, suddenly drowning in regret. She couldn’t seem to come up with anything else, circling around the night she’d hurt him like the moon around the earth. “God, I’m so sorry.”

 

She stood in the circle of the streetlight, and Spike turned to see her rigid form. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. He was reminded suddenly, forcibly, of the night he’d come to kill her, shotgun in hand. It seemed that this night was a distant echo of that one.

 

Except that three years separated his humiliation in an alley and her tearful eyes this time, instead of mere hours. That, and he didn’t need a weapon to kill her anymore.

 

Spike didn’t allow himself to think about what he was doing. He’d gotten much better at comforting humans the past few years, gotten himself back into the habit of touching shoulders, speaking words with as much tact as truth. Now, ignoring the voice in his head that told him this was a bad idea, reminded him of where it would eventually lead, Spike took Buffy in his arms, allowing her to bury her face in his shoulder.

 

With her cradled gently in his embrace, her scent overwhelming his senses, Spike had no words for how he was feeling. Like he’d come home, maybe. Relieved. Angry that he was here again. Hopeful. Hopeless. When he felt her crying stop, Spike pulled back from her. “You alright, pet?”

 

It was perhaps the most innocuous of his nicknames for people. Spike used “pet” the way women from the south used “hon.” He wasn’t quite sure that Buffy got that, however.

 

She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She still didn’t carry around essentials like tissues, though she could be trusted not to leave the house without a stake. “Yeah, I think so. I’m sorry about that, Spike. It’s these hormones, I think. I didn’t want to cry on your shoulder.”

 

This time he took her assertion the way she meant it. Of course, Buffy never meant to break down in front of anyone. He wondered if she’d shown as much of herself to her friends and Watcher as she had to him. “’s alright, really. What are you goin’ to do?”

 

Buffy knew what he was asking, and thought that it was odd. Out of all the people she knew, all the people she had told her secret, he was the first to ask that question, other than Dawn. Everyone else had assumed she would get rid of the baby, or they had advised her to do so. Even Giles, though she could hear the anguish and gravity in his voice, had wondered aloud if it wouldn’t be better to “take care of things now.”

 

Oh, of course, they had all pledged to support her once she told them she was keeping the baby. The Scoobies were nothing if not loyal to their own. But the unspoken question had been there: how could she hope to care for a baby when she was the Slayer, and barely able to take care of herself?

 

Spike was still watching her with that stolid, wary expression that gave no hint as to his feelings on the matter. He might have been a statue for all the movement he made. “I’m keeping the baby,” she replied, “but I don’t know if it will work out. I’m the Slayer, Spike. I might not even be alive in a couple years. Sometimes I wonder if having a baby wouldn’t be irresponsible.”

 

Nika’s face when she talked about having a child sprang to mind. “If this is what you want, luv, then you should do it. May not get another chance, an’ you’ve got friends to help.”

 

“Not like I used to,” she murmured, sighing. “Seriously, though, I had no plans on getting your shirt soggy. I mean, here I was going to give you a nice apology, a short update, and then leave you to your regularly scheduled unlife.”

 

Spike regarded her seriously. He had never been more unsure of what he wanted. “Is that what you wanted, Slayer? To come here and then leave again?”

 

“I have no clue.” Buffy went to lean against the building, out of the light so that darkness mostly hid her face and form. “What do you want?”

 

“No soddin’ clue.”  After a moment of silence, Spike added, “I can’t leave Wes to his own devices though. We’re partners.”

 

“I understand,” Buffy said, and she really did. Of course, there was a huge part of her that wanted Spike to go down on one knee and declare himself her willing slave, but that voice was largely silent these days. Maybe she was growing up after all.

 

Spike went on. “I can’t go back to what we were.” It was a flat statement, no room for argument or debate. Buffy had no intention of arguing, however. The last few weeks, thinking about what had gone on between the two of them, she had come to the conclusion that if Spike hadn’t left, somebody would have ended up dead or dusted. He had been right to leave.

 

She hadn’t the strength to say it.

 

“I can’t either,” she replied. “I don’t—I’m not saying we ‘go back’ to anything.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“What do you want?”

 

Spike laughed, and there was real humor in the sound. “You. I wanted to get over you, but never made it.”

 

“Me neither,” Buffy confessed, feeling an attack of honesty coming on. “I mean, I told myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, but it was a lie.”

 

Spike smiled slightly, looking over at her through the darkness. “So where does that leave us, luv? I’m here in L.A., an’ I’m not leavin’. You’re there in Sunnydale, an’ you’re not leavin’. What’s the point of even startin’ somethin’ we can’t finish?”

 

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied, sighing. “I just—I don’t know, Spike. And to be perfectly honest, I’m feeling kinda anti-man right now.”

 

Now he did laugh, and it was a sound Buffy didn’t think she’d ever heard from him. It was free and easy and oh, so natural. She wished she were the one that had released it. “Good thing for you ‘m not a man, strictly speakin’.” Spike grinned at her, and then offered his arm. “Why don’t you walk home with me? You can meet Nika and Wes all proper-like.” It was the reason he’d chosen this particular café, though he’d hardly dared hope that their meeting would go so well.

 

She smiled in return, almost shyly. “I’d like that. Dawn’s told me so much about them, and I don’t feel that I hardly know Wesley anymore. I just wasn’t sure you’d actually want me to know where you lived.”

 

Spike’s smile softened, and he bent slightly to kiss her on the forehead in a kind of benediction. “Think I can trust you not to barge in at all hours,” he murmured.

 

They walked next to each other, and this time Buffy found the silence easy. “What happened to your leg?” she asked after a while, feeling his hitching gait through the hand she’d placed on his arm.

 

“Chip. When I got it out, I mean.” His eyes darkened with remembered days, wondering if he’d ever be able to really walk again. “Was a lot worse, once.”

 

“Then I’m glad it’s better,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike hesitated, wanting to ask the question, but not knowing if he wanted to hear the answer. “Why’d you change your mind, Buffy? Why write that letter at all?”

 

Her grip tightened on his arm, as though to reassure herself that he was still there, that he wasn’t running away. Everyone ran away. “Do you remember when I first came back, and I had all those nightmares?” she asked, a wistful note in her voice. At his nod, she continued. “You were the only one I could stand to be around. I told myself that it was wrong, that I should have wanted to be with my friends, but it wasn’t. Wrong, I mean.”

 

“’m not sure I understand,” he said when she stopped.

 

Buffy smiled. “I don’t know that _I_ understand. I just—if I hadn’t been uber-Bitch, you wouldn’t have left.”

 

Spike read between the lines, and he knew what she was saying. Everyone left, except Spike. He might have stayed, if she hadn’t chased him off. Spike just couldn’t believe that she was actually saying it, saying that she hadn’t wanted him to leave. “Uber-Bitch, huh?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Buffy shot him a look. “And no comments. I can admit it.”

 

They were on a residential street now, the small, neat houses lined up on a well-lit street. Buffy had forgotten places like this existed in L.A. Spike was looking thoughtful. “Dunno if this is a good idea,” he said suddenly, pausing. At first he had wondered if it wasn’t a bad plan because he had an inkling that they might be interrupting something between Nika and Wesley. Now, he was wondering because there was a black convertible parked in Nika’s driveway, and he was fairly certain he knew whose car it was.

 

“That’s Angel’s car,” Buffy said, confirming his suspicions. She looked over at Spike. “It’s up to you,” she said softly. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

 

“What are you going to tell him if we do go in?” Spike asked, a challenge in his voice. He was suddenly touchy again, and Buffy knew she could make or break their fledgling connection with the wrong response.

 

She shrugged. “First of all, it’s none of his business where I am or what I’m doing. I’m not seeing Angel anymore. Second, I was out having a cup of coffee with you. That’s what I’m going to tell him.”

 

It wasn’t everything he’d hoped for, but it was enough for Spike. It was more than she’d ever told her friends. “Alright. Let’s make sure he’s not givin’ Wesley a hard time then.”

 

Spike walked through the door, Buffy just behind him, to see Angel seated awkwardly on the couch. Wesley was standing in a corner of the room, as far away from the other occupants as he could get, and Nika was looking annoyed and uncomfortable. “What’s goin’ on, Wesley?” Spike asked, addressing the one person he was worried for. Angel wouldn’t harm Nika, and she hadn’t the emotional scars from the other vampire that Wesley did.

 

“Angel came to say hello,” the ex-Watcher replied, his voice dull.

 

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Spike smirked.

 

Angel’s eye had caught Buffy. “Buffy? What are you doing here?”

 

“I was out with Spike,” she said, not bothering to qualify their night out with any kind of explanation. “What’s going on, Angel?”

 

He looked even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. “I just wanted to talk to Wes. Be sure he was—you know.”

 

It was obvious to everyone in the room that whatever attempts at reconciliation had been made, they were over. With the presence of Spike and Buffy, all privacy was gone, and Angel was unwilling to make a public apology, not in front of Spike. “Maybe we could talk some other time,” Angel suggested.

 

“If you’d like,” Wesley replied, managing to sound indifferent to the idea.

 

If Angel was taken aback by the man’s coolness, he gave no sign. “Buffy? Do you want a ride back to the hotel?”

 

“No, I think I’ll hang here for a while,” Buffy replied, sounding breezy and terribly unconcerned. Spike had to work to hide a smile; when the Slayer sounded that much like a dumb blonde, her brain was typically working over-time.

 

The big vampire hesitated, then nodded, mumbling a general good-bye before heading out the door. Wesley turned and looked at Nika as soon as he’d gone. “What did you do?”

 

“I bribed him,” she replied, unrepentant. “I’m sorry, Wesley, but I told you, I don’t want to lose you. If I can do anything to keep you safe, I will. This time, keeping you safe meant bribing Angel. Deal with it.”

 

Spike was sensing tension in the room, and he started to back off towards the kitchen, motioning Buffy to come along with him. “Oh, it’s quite alright, Spike,” Wesley said irritably. “You needn’t leave. I’m just going—”

 

“Where?” Nika asked. “Wesley—”

 

“Stop!” Spike didn’t often give orders. Even when he was in control, he wasn’t much on giving orders, preferring instead to let the chips fall where they might. Fists, fangs, and sod all else. But this situation was a little different. “Nika, what exactly did you do?”

 

“I anchored Angel’s soul in return for him not coming after Wesley,” she replied, still not sorry. “I was going to tell him, but we got—busy.”

 

Spike could just imagine. “You really have a problem with that, Watcher?”

 

“No, of course not, it’s just…” The man trailed off, coming over to sit down on the couch. Spike could see the self-righteousness drain out of him. “It’s not Nika I’m upset with,” he mumbled into his hands. “Angel interrupted us.”

 

Spike could understand that feeling all too well. “Then we’ll let you get back to it,” he said. “I just thought I’d show Buffy my place.” This was all said with a studied nonchalance that had the Slayer hiding a smile. That, and the thought of Wesley having a moment with anyone. She still remembered the horribly starched young Watcher who had screwed things up so badly. This Wesley, on the other hand, was slightly rumpled, stubbled, and could probably give Spike a run for his money on the attractiveness scale.

 

He was older, and more scarred, and obviously had just had old wounds reopened by Angel’s presence. And the way Nika was looking at him, it was apparent that she was exactly what he needed right now. “It was good to see both of you again,” she said, a little uncertainly.

 

Wesley glanced up at her, and Nika’s eyes met hers for a moment. There was a flash of understanding, woman-to-woman, and Buffy nodded in response to the unspoken question. “You ought to come over sometime for dinner,” Nika suggested softly. “It would be nice for all of us to reconnect.”

 

“Sure, next time I’m in L.A.” Buffy turned and followed Spike into the kitchen, looking back to see that Nika was now sitting next to Wesley on the couch, pulling him into her arms. She was taking care of him.

 

“’s down here,” Spike explained, flipping the stairwell light on, waiting for Buffy to precede him down the stairs.

 

Whatever Buffy had expected, this wasn’t it. That seemed to be the theme of the evening. Nothing was as she had thought. “This is nice, Spike.” She tried to keep the surprise out of her tone, and apparently was successful, because he simply smiled.

 

“Nicer than the crypt for sure,” he agreed. Spike hesitated. “If you want to stay, couch folds out.”

 

Buffy wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Was it moving too fast? Did it matter that whatever she might have said to him, she still wanted him? Standing in this basement apartment, with its neat décor and decent furnishings, she wondered if she’d ever really known him at all. Had Spike always been capable of this—living in an actual house, making friends, becoming a part of something? It drove home how much she might have missed out on.

 

“Can we talk?” she asked, suddenly uncertain. “I mean, can you just tell me what you’ve been doing? What demon did you fight last week? Do you like living here? Are you—” she faltered. “Are you happy?”

 

“Happy as I can be,” Spike replied, answering her last question first. “An’ we can talk, about whatever you like.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “Then I want to talk about you.” Taking a tentative step closer, she whispered, “I want to know who you are, because I’m not sure I recognize the man in front of me.”

 

“That’s because I’m a vampire,” he replied, trying for humor.

 

She shook her head. “No, that’s what I thought too. That’s why I don’t recognize the man that’s with me now.”

 

_“I know I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man, and that’s—”_ The words seemed to echo in the silence they had created.

 

Spike sank down onto the couch, waiting until Buffy sat down next to him. “It took me a few weeks to find a doctor who’d take the chip out,” he began, telling her everything. And they talked all night.


	13. July 2005

**Part III: Rapprochement**

**“Come to me now/Lay your hands over me/Even if it is a lie/Say it will be alright/And I shall believe/I’m broken in two/And I know you’re on to me/That I only come home/When I’m so all alone/But I do believe/That not everything is gonna be the way/You think it ought to be/It seems like every time I try to make it right/It all comes down on me/Please say honestly you won't give up on me/And I shall believe/And I shall believe/Open the door/  
And show me your face tonight/I know it's true/No one heals me like you/And you hold the key/Never again/would I turn away from you/I'm so heavy tonight/But your love is alright/  
And I do believe.” ~Sheryl Crow, “I Shall Believe”**

 

**Chapter 13: July 2005**

 

“Spike?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“You can ask.” Spike looked over at his companion. They had borrowed Nika’s car for this little outing, and were supposed to be staking out the warehouse across the way. While they were both keeping watch, the vampire could tell that Wesley’s full attention wasn’t on the job at hand. In fact, he had a pretty good idea of where the other man’s head was and what question he wanted to ask. The temptation to play with him was overwhelming.

 

Spike never claimed not to be still a _little_ evil.

 

“What are your feelings for Danika?” Wesley’s retreat into formality told Spike all he needed to know about the ex-Watcher’s feelings. Not to mention the fact that his heart-rate sped up and his breath caught every time he saw her, and he had a nasty habit of getting all stiff every time Spike showed her some affection, or vice versa.

 

The only thing restraining Spike from dragging Wesley along on an emotional goose chase was the fact that he knew Nika fancied the man—for whatever reason. She’d never forgive him if something he said made Wesley give up before the games had even begun. “I love her,” Spike said sincerely. “But not the way you’re comin’ to.”

 

Wesley looked over at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You, ya git.” Spike lifted an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. “You’ve been makin’ moon eyes at Nika for months now.”

 

He opened his mouth to refute it and found he couldn’t. “You noticed?” he asked weakly.

 

Spike smirked. “Mate, ‘m a vampire. Not hard to notice when a bloke’s got it bad for a girl. An’ in case you’re wonderin’, she fancies you.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “But you and she—”

 

“Where are you gettin’ that?” Spike demanded. “We’ve both told you how it is with us. We wouldn’t lie to you ‘bout somethin’ like that.”

 

Spike heard the other man sigh deeply. “It’s just—” ‘History,’ Spike thought, mentally finishing the sentence. They all carried their own baggage, their own scars. Wesley was no exception to the rule. From what he’d let drop, and from the run-in they’d had with his old friends, Wesley was trying hard to outrun his own demons, and he wasn’t always successful.

 

“She wouldn’t want me,” Wesley finally said. It was said as if it was the gospel truth, and Spike nearly winced. He’d been there, done that, and didn’t want to go back there.

 

The vampire sighed deeply. “Wesley, are you listenin’ to me at all? Told you she fancied you.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “Danika’s not the type of woman who would ‘fancy’ a rogue demon hunter.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “She would want a man who could give her what she needs.”

 

“And that would be me?” Spike asked incredulously. “Wesley, the woman wants to get married an’ have babies. I can’t give her that.”

 

“And I can?” Wesley countered. “Spike, I doubt I’ll make it to forty. Nika deserves someone who can give her more time than that.”

 

Spike frowned. “Why don’t you get out of this business, mate? Marry, settle down, have kiddies—all those things you humans are supposed to want.”

 

Now Wesley’s laughter was bitter. “All I ever wanted was to matter, to belong somewhere. I had it all, and then I threw it away.”

 

Spike was tempted to smack him. The ex-Watcher was just being a stupid prat now, but at the same time, Spike couldn’t actually blame him. After all, you didn’t see him going after Buffy, trying to make things right. “If I have anythin’ to say about it, you’re goin’ to live to a ripe old age. So stop bein’ such a git an’ ask her out already.”

 

Wesley turned his head to look out the windshield again. He was obviously not interested in continuing this discussion. Spike growled slightly. “Wesley—”

 

“Look.” Spike’s eyes went to where Wesley was pointing, and he saw a couple of the vampires they were looking for dragging in a meal. The two of them had been hired to clean up a warehouse before it was renovated. The entire district was being gutted in order to turn it into a series of clubs and restaurants.

 

The plan—Wesley’s, of course—was to stake out the warehouse first to get an idea of how many vampires were nesting there. So far, they’d seen at least five, but there was a good chance of running into a lot more. Unfortunately, with the arrival of a human victim, the plan got scrapped, and they were duty-bound to go in.

 

Spike actually preferred it that way. Fists and fangs—nothing but the fight. Wesley wasn’t going to be happy, however. “Guess it’s plan B then, mate.”

 

Wesley frowned, disgruntled. “I suppose. If we don’t move quickly, all we’ll find is a dead body.”

 

“Just what I was thinkin’,” Spike replied cheerfully. “Let’s go.” He followed Wesley towards the warehouse, noting with approval the crossbow and battle ax that he carried in either hand. The ex-Watcher would also have stakes in wrist-sheathes, so he was well-armed, and ready for whatever they might find. The vampire would never admit it, but Spike worried about Wesley, especially in situations such as this one.

 

It was entirely possible for either one of them to suffer a mortal wound any time they went into battle. Wesley, of course, was much more vulnerable than he was. Anything that might kill Spike—save for sunlight—would work on the human as well, as well as a number of other things. Spike honestly couldn’t remember worrying about a comrade like he did Wesley. Buffy and Dawn were the only humans he had ever cared about, and they were different. (There was Nika, of course, but she didn’t go into battle with him.)

 

Spike had never thought to find another man he would follow unquestioningly into a fight. After the Slayer, he’d never thought to find someone he trusted implicitly.

 

The first few minutes of the fight went well enough. There were a half dozen vampires in the large open room, and Wesley dusted two of them immediately with a couple well-placed crossbow bolts. Spike took the head off another one and sent the pointed end of the shaft through another’s chest.

 

It should have been four down and two to go at that point, but another five vamps came from the catwalk that lined the walls above them. Four of them flanked Spike, and he grinned with the thrill of it. He spun the ax in his hands, showing off a little bit. “Come an’ get it, boys,” he invited.

 

They advanced on him, and at least two of them were older and a bit smarter about the fight than the ones he’d already dusted. That bit didn’t faze him at all; in fact, Spike preferred his opponents to have a bit of bite to them. It wasn’t any fun otherwise.

 

At one point Spike had nearly given up hope that he’d ever be able to fight like he used to. He was certain that having a bum leg made him somewhat less of a warrior. Fighting with Wesley had changed all that, since he was responsible for someone else besides himself, and someone else was responsible for him. Having someone to watch his back had freed him to rediscover the joy of the fight.

 

Up until now, he hadn’t realized that having another person there could inspire terror as well.

 

Spike dusted his last vampire and turned to check on Wesley, only to find that the other man was down, hand pressed to his stomach. There was already a dark red stain spreading out from under his fingers, and the last vampire standing was going in for the kill, fangs bared.

 

He didn’t even pause to think—the stake flew from his hand, piercing the vampire’s heart and sending dust floating down over the fallen man. Spike spared a glance for the young man the vampires had grabbed. “Get out of here,” he growled. When the boy stayed frozen, petrified by fear and uncertainty, Spike flashed some fang, yellow eyes glowing in the dim room. “Move. Now.”

 

This time the boy didn’t wait to be told twice, taking off as fast as he could, hand pressed over the wound in his neck. He was moving swiftly enough so that Spike knew he’d most likely be okay. He was more concerned for Wesley.

 

Spike knelt by his side, peering at the wound with an expert eye. “’s bad, Wesley,” he said quietly. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

 

“No hospital,” Wesley replied hoarsely, but firmly.

 

Spike shook his head. “But you need—”

 

“No hospital,” Wesley said, more strongly still. He pushed himself into a sitting position, grunting a little with the pain. “I’m sick to death of hospitals.”

 

Spike sighed and chewed his lip briefly. “Fine. Nika then. Lucky for you she’s a dab hand at this sort of thing. Not to mention the fact that we have the car tonight.” Pulling off his leather jacket, he took his shirt off, applying pressure to the wound. Once Spike was certain that the man could keep up the pressure, he put his jacket back on over his t-shirt.

 

He lifted Wesley easily, supporting the other man’s weight even as he guided the both of them out to the car. Making sure Wesley was safely buckled into the passenger side, Spike started up the car and headed for Nika’s house.

 

It was a good thirty minutes before they got there, Wesley getting paler by the minute. Spike nearly turned the car around and headed for the hospital a couple of times, but each time Wesley simply gritted his teeth a little more and insisted that he not even think about it. The vampire didn’t question his insistence, though he did think it a little strange.

 

When they pulled up in front of Nika’s house, Spike helped the ex-Watcher out, supporting him up to the door. He got Wesley inside and sat him on the couch, going over to Nika’s bedroom door and knocking, a little of the urgency he was feeling coming through in the sound.

 

Her door opened immediately. She was in her pajamas and her hair was loose over her shoulders. One look at Spike’s face was all she needed to know it was serious. “What is it?”

 

“Wesley. He’s hurt.” Spike leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “I wanted to take him to the hospital, but he wouldn’t go. Dunno why.”

 

Nika followed him out the door, giving Wesley the once-over, and jerking her head at Spike. “Get him into my room. We’ll work on him in there.”

 

Spike hauled Wesley off the couch as gently as he could manage, supporting the other man into the bedroom and onto the bed. “Spike, get his jacket and shirt off, please,” Nika called from the kitchen where she was digging out first aid supplies.

 

The vampire didn’t even hesitate. He helped Wesley slip his jacket off, the human letting out a small groan of pain. Other than that Wesley wasn’t making any noise, focusing most of his energies on staying conscious. “Bloody hell,” Spike muttered as he got the ex-Watcher’s shirt off, finally able to see the full extent of the wound.

 

The man was lucky that vampire had been trying for a slice. Spike didn’t think he would have survived a stab wound to the gut. And only a few more millimeters deeper and Wesley’s insides would have been outside. Spike felt his own stomach clench; they had almost lost him.

 

He looked up as Nika entered the room, plastic tub in hand. Spike could see her blanch slightly, and he’d never seen her pale at the sight of an injury before. She came over to the bed, plastering a smile on her face. “Looks like you got yourself banged up pretty good, _cariad_.”

 

“Wasn’t fast enough,” Wesley said, beginning to feel faint from pain and blood loss.

 

Nika smiled wryly. “Well, let that be a lesson to you then.” As his eyes drooped shut, she gently tapped him on the cheek. “Sorry, Wesley. I need you to stay with me for a minute. Got something for you to drink first, then you can go to sleep, okay?”

 

Spike helped her support him as she poured her “special” tea down his throat, as much as possible. “Anything I can do?” he asked softly as Wesley slipped into unconsciousness.

 

Nika nodded, her lips tight. Now that she didn’t have to pretend for Wesley’s sake, the worry on her face was clear to see. “I need to disinfect the wound, and then I’ll need you to help me hold it shut so I can stitch it up.” Her gray eyes met his, and he could read the fear there. “Why didn’t you take him to the hospital, Spike?”

 

Spike would have flushed in shame if vampires could. “I—he didn’t want to go. Wasn’t sure how bad it was, an’ I thought you could take care of it.”

 

“I can,” she replied. “But next time I might not be able to. I’ll talk to Wesley about this too, Spike, but I want you to promise me you’ll follow your instincts next time. I don’t care what Wesley Wyndam-Pryce thinks he wants.”

 

Spike nodded, feeling chastened, and Nika reached over to put a hand on his wrist. “It’s okay. I can take care of him, but I need you to go wash your hands really well.”

 

While Nika waited for Spike to return, she started using the sterile gauze pads to mop up the wound. The bleeding was sluggish now as the clotting factor did its work. She used another of her _nain_’s remedies to disinfect the wound. By that point, Spike was back in the room, clean hands held out tentatively in front of him.

 

“Good,” Nika said, glancing over at him. “Now I need you to pinch here.” With the vampire’s help, she sewed up the long gash with tiny, precise stitches. After what seemed like hours, Nika finally trimmed the thread, spread a salve along the cut, then taped a sterile dressing over it. She raised her head to see Spike looking at her, exhaustion in his eyes. It always amazed her how much he seemed to care about those around him when it shouldn’t have mattered at all that a man had almost died.

 

“Come on, Spike,” she said gently, pulling him out of the room. Even though the vampire was covered in blood, he still wore his human guise, and Nika was impressed by his control. The bloodlust should have been unbearable. “You okay?”

 

He nodded. “’m sorry, Nika.” His blue eyes were dark with residual fear and guilt. “I never meant to let ‘im get hurt so bad. Wasn’t supposed to go down that way.”

 

“I know, sweetheart,” she said, guiding him over to the couch and sitting down next to him. “It wasn’t your fault, Spike.”

 

She could see his jaw tense, a muscle jumping in an uneven rhythm. “Told him I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.” Spike stared at her. “Nika, ‘m sorry. I wanted to keep him safe for you.”

 

Nika bit her lip, letting the realization that she could have lost Wesley sink in. “Oh, Spike…”

 

“Shh,” Spike said, drawing her into his arms, feeling her begin to tremble. He accepted his responsibility for the evening’s events. He should have been more careful with Wesley. The ex-Watcher was more fragile than he’d even realized. He would have to watch more carefully in the future, because he’d meant what he said. Spike knew how Nika was beginning to feel about the man, and he vowed that she would not lose another person she loved.

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Nika whispered into Spike’s chest. “If I lost either one of you, I think it would kill me.”

 

Spike ran his hand down her hair in a soothing motion. “No, it wouldn’t,” he contradicted. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, luv. You’d be alright in the end.”

 

“Why is this always the way it is?” Nika asked, her voice dangerously close to tears. “Why do I always seem to lose the people I love?”

 

Spike murmured soft words of encouragement, meaningless phrases meant to comfort as she started to cry. “You’re not goin’ to lose either one of us,” he promised. “I swear to you, I’ll keep him safe if I have to stick him in the trunk next time.”

 

“And what about you, Spike?” Nika demanded. “You’re important to me too.”

 

Spike shook his head. “I’m just a vampire, luv. Definitely expendable.”

“You’re not expendable,” Nika said, sounding angry. “And you’re not just anything. You got Wesley out alive tonight, Spike. That means a lot.”

 

Spike smiled, but his eyes were dark with doubt. “I shouldn’t have let him get hurt in the first place.”

Nika pulled back. “You both know the risks you take every time you go out. It’s as much his fault as yours, if you want to lay blame that badly.” She touched his cheek fondly. “You should get cleaned up. Go watch TV or go to bed. I’ll take care of Wesley.”

 

“Come an’ get me if you need me?”

 

“Of course.” Nika watched him head for the basement, his posture a picture of tension. Spike took his self-imposed responsibilities so very seriously. She went back to her bedroom, sitting down on the bed next to Wesley’s still form. Spike had seen what she hadn’t wanted to admit, even to herself. She was beginning to fall head over heels for the ex-Watcher.

 

Nika reached out to stroke his cheek, running a hand over his hair. Ever since he had helped her deliver the Lidraki baby, she had found herself watching him every chance she got. It was odd. With Danny, it had very much been love at first sight, and their love had grown and changed as they had. With Wesley, it had been a slow progression until she couldn’t quite say when it was she’d first started loving him. One day he had been her friend, and a man she admired. The next day she was watching him as a potential mate.

 

How she felt about him was unimportant, however. Nika wasn’t sure she could deal with losing another lover. Up until this moment, she had half-thought to approach Wesley with her feelings if he didn’t make a move, but now she wasn’t so sure. She had to be certain she could live with losing him, live with the danger he was constantly putting himself in.

 

She had thought she would be angry with him for getting hurt, and she was—a little. More than anger, however, she found herself simply grateful that she would have more time with him, even if she didn’t do anything with the opportunity.

 

Stretching out on the bed next to him, Nika moved closer, allowing herself to trace patterns on his bare chest. Tomorrow they would be back to business as usual. Tomorrow she would pretend that she wasn’t falling in love with him. Tonight she would allow herself to fantasize that this might all be hers someday.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley woke slowly, in an unfamiliar place, his head feeling fuzzy. For a brief moment he wondered if he hadn’t had a few drinks too many with Spike and ended up on his couch.

 

The warm body next to him disabused him of that notion rather rapidly.

 

He shifted slightly, feeling the stitches in his stomach pull as he moved, and Wesley stifled a groan. Moving as carefully as possible, he turned to see Nika sleeping next to him, her dark hair fanned across the pillow where it wasn’t hanging in her face. Hesitantly, he reached out to brush a strand out of her face. For a moment, Wesley allowed himself to revel in her beauty, but when her eyes fluttered open, he withdrew his hand, watching as she stirred slowly.

 

“Wesley? How are you feeling?” Nika asked, her voice still slurred from sleep, her gray eyes focusing on him with difficulty.

 

He managed a smile. “Better than I was last night, I believe.” The events of the previous evening were beginning to come back to him. He remembered that Spike had been terribly worried for him, and had brought him back to Nika’s place when he had refused to go to a hospital. In retrospect, the hospital would have been the wiser choice, but he was sick of spending days in hospital beds. After his last trip there, Wesley had sworn to himself that he’d have to be on the brink of death before going back.

 

Judging from the look in Nika’s eyes this morning, that brink had been all too close.

 

Wesley made a decision in that moment. The words he’d spoken to Spike earlier, saying that he would most likely be dead before forty, had taken on an almost prophetic quality. It was highly unlikely that he would die in his own bed at a ripe old age. Even if Nika fancied him, as Spike had insisted, there was no way he could ask her to be with him. He couldn’t put her through another loss. His passing would hurt her because she cared for him; that was her nature. He didn’t have to ask her to love him though. Eventually she’d move on, find some man who was safer.

 

Wesley could see in her eyes the same look that had been in Virginia’s before she had broken up with him. This time he would avoid that scene by not entering into the relationship in the first place. “I’m glad you could patch me up,” he said lightly. “I hate hospitals.”

 

Nika thought she had seen a flash of something in his eyes, as though he’d come to some sort of a conclusion. She wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure where to begin. The last man she had dated was Danny, and that had been nearly fifteen years before. She had no idea how to approach dating as a grown woman.

 

It didn’t matter, she told herself firmly. It didn’t matter because this relationship wasn’t going anywhere. She had no desire to lose another lover to the arms of death. If Wesley wasn’t in love with her, so much the better, since she wouldn’t have to say no to him.

 

She honestly didn’t think she _could_ say no.

 

“You can stay here for as long as you need,” she assured him, and then smiled wickedly, pushing aside the loneliness and fear and worry. Wesley was her very good friend, and that’s what was important. “Of course, you may think the hospital was the lesser of two evils. They _want_ you to leave as quickly as possible. I’m going to sit on you until you’re better, if I have to.”

 

Their eyes met, and an understanding passed between them. Wesley knew she was pulling back slightly, and he understood. Nika knew he understood, and she was willing to pretend her love for him was of the platonic variety. For now they would both pretend, neither willing to risk the comfort of friendship for something greater.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike sat on his bed, still in his blood-covered clothing. He had almost lost Wesley tonight, and that sense of teetering on the brink brought back memories.

 

Memories he would have rather pretended didn’t exist.

 

Failure was not a new companion, of course. There had been his failure as a human being in general, his failure as a vampire to be as evil as Angelus. He had failed to keep Drusilla and failed to kill his third Slayer. But right now he was remembering an early morning on a shaky tower, the sick realization that Doc was going to cut Dawn, and the utter despair when he realized that Buffy had paid for his mistake with her life.

 

Oh, Spike knew that Dawn hadn’t blamed him. He didn’t even think that Buffy had truly believed him to be responsible for her death, but he felt it all the same. If vampires weren’t supposed to feel guilt, Spike couldn’t put a name to this emotion that coursed through him, that had sent him the daydreams every day that _she_ was gone—147 ways to make things right. He’d said the 148th day didn’t count, but that wasn’t precisely true, as he’d already thought of a new way to save her by the time he saw her coming down the stairs that night.

 

Tonight he felt the failure again, running over and over in his head how he might have prevented Wesley from getting hurt. Spike knew he should have stayed closer, shouldn’t have gotten so caught up in the fight. These humans were so frail…

 

Of its own accord, his hand wandered over to the drawer in the bedside table, pulling out a thick stack of letters. Nika and Wesley knew about them—how could they not, when he was constantly crowing about Dawn’s successes, like a proud older brother? They were his security blanket, though, and Spike was willing to bet that neither of his friends knew that there were days when only flimsy pieces of paper stood between him and despondency.

 

Spike still liked to hold on to the illusion that something remained of the Big Bad.

 

He pulled out the letter from the top of the pile, wanting to find some way to wash the taste of guilt and failure out of his mouth. Dawn had comforted him by her presence that infinitely long summer, just as he had comforted her with his. Now, over the distance, she comforted him with her words, although Spike was sure she didn’t know it.

 

_June 21, 2005_

_Hey Spike,_

_It’s so cool, you’re never going to believe it. I got in to UCLA! I know you told me not to worry about you, to go wherever I wanted, but they’re practically paying me to go there, so I have a really good excuse. Plus, I’ll be close to you again, and that will be nice._

_My sister is driving me crazy. I think she believed I was going to stay in town for college and live at home to save money. Half the time she’s totally absorbed in her own life and the other half of the time she’s asking me if I wouldn’t want to stay here instead. I really don’t get her sometimes. I’m ready to be out of this town though, and this way I won’t be completely alone in the big city. _

_That’s about it. I’ve got to get to work. I need some new parts for the truck, so there will be no slacking. Love you,_

_Dawn_

 

Spike swallowed as he put the letter away. He’d already responded, congratulating her on her scholarship, but he hadn’t invited her to see him. He wasn’t quite sure that it was a good idea. Thinking back, he could understand why Buffy didn’t want Dawn to hang around him. He _was_ a bad influence, and he was a vampire as well. On the other hand, he ached to see her again in a way that was unfamiliar.

 

Missing Dawn was a pain that held no regret, no real hurt. Save for that night on the tower, he’d done his best by her, and she by him. Their love was one of little complication. It might not be easily understood by others, but it was real.

 

Spike went backwards through the pile, reading the stack letter by letter, reminding himself that something good might come out of failure, that it didn’t have to mean the end of things. And when he finally fell asleep, it was with a sheet of girlish stationary clutched tightly in his hand.


	14. November 2005

A/N: _O bechod_ is translated “poor thing.” _Fy nghariad i_ is “my love.”

 

Nika sat next to Wesley on the couch, feeling helpless in the wake of his emotions. He was usually so reserved that it was hard to know how to react now that he had let down his guard. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, feeling unreasonably awkward. They had been so comfortable with one another earlier. “I should have told you about my visit to Angel. But then we got busy, and I just didn’t think about it.”

 

“I’m not angry at you,” Wesley said quietly, his voice under tight control.

 

Nika took a chance and moved a little closer to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Okay. That’s good, because you sure could have fooled me.” After a lengthy pause, she asked, “Then what has you so upset, Wesley?”

 

“What am I supposed to do if Angel forgives me?”

 

The question was not what she was expecting, and she had no idea how to respond. Nika would have thought that Angel’s forgiveness was what Wesley wanted, not something that made him angry. “I don’t understand.”

 

“What if he wants to pick up where we left off? Or he asks me to come back to work for him?” His voice sounded oddly muted, as though he was choking back tears. “What do I do then? It’s not as though I could leave you or Spike, and they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t understand.”

 

“What do you want to do?” She could feel him draw in a breath to answer, and she squeezed his shoulders, interrupting what he had been about to say. “Don’t say what you think I want to hear, and don’t worry about Spike for a minute. Just tell me what _you_ want.”

 

“Nothing,” Wesley said, his voice harsh in the quiet of the room. “I want nothing from him.”

 

Nika let her hands slip away as he stood, pacing—stalking—around the room. “I can’t go back to the way things were. I can’t—I trusted him.”

 

“You’re angry with him,” she stated.

 

He whirled to face her, and she could tell that he was still trying to stay in control. Three years’ worth of hurt and anger were bound to escape at some point, and Nika could tell Wesley was at the boiling point. “Yes!” Staring at her, he asked in a bare whisper, “But how can I be angry, after what I did to him… I deserved it.”

 

She stayed silent, waiting, wanting to see if he would eventually open up to her on his own without her prying. Finally he spoke, more to himself than to her. “He was my friend. I trusted him with my life, and he tried to kill me. I was wrong. I betrayed him. But he didn’t even ask—” Wesley looked up at Nika, his voice plaintive as he addressed himself to her. “Why didn’t he ask? I never wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to protect him—and Connor. He was my friend.”

 

“I know,” she replied.

 

“I wanted to tell someone.” Wesley continued his disjointed explanation. “I couldn’t tell Angel; he was acting so strangely. Cordelia was off with the Groosalug. And, of course, Gunn and Fred…” He nearly choked on the words. “I couldn’t even look at them together. There was no one.”

 

Nika looked at him, waiting for him to finish. “He didn’t even ask me… I would have died for him. I hurt him so badly, and now I think I might hate him.”

 

Now she stood, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the trembling of his body. “_O bechod_,” she murmured. “Wesley, _fy nghariad i_. It’s alright to be angry with him, with all of them. They were your family, and they left you. Family does not do such a thing.” Pulling back, Nika took him by the hand and pulled him into her bedroom. “It’s right to be angry when you’re hurt. I’m angry with him for you.”

 

“But what I did—” The protest was weak, but Wesley still felt it. What he had done left him no room to cast stones or lay blame. The rage he felt was irrational, and he had no idea how to exorcise it.

 

Nika lay a finger on his lips, stilling his words. “What you did hurt Angel,” she agreed. “What he did, and what the others did, hurt you.” She kissed him on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips, tasting his tears as they fell. “Personally, right now I’m really pissed off at him. He ruined what should have been a wonderful evening.”

 

Wesley couldn’t even manage a chuckle at her slightly outraged tone. He hadn’t cried since he had been infected with Billy’s blood. Even the loss of everything he’d ever held dear hadn’t caused him to cry. If the truth were to be told, Wesley had so walled off his emotions that nothing had reached him. He’d been too busy trying to survive to allow himself to grieve. He half-wondered if seeing Fred with Gunn hadn’t started the progression—not allowing himself to feel. And now he felt—

 

Nika’s hands on his shoulders, arms, chest. Her light kisses dusting his skin. Wesley had wanted this so badly, and now all he could do was cry for what had been lost. She tugged his shoes off, pushing him to lay down on the bed, pillowing his head on her chest. “Shh,” she comforted. “_Cariad_, we all have to grieve. So tonight you mourn for what was lost. Tomorrow is soon enough for exploring what is in front of us.”

 

“I love you,” he said hoarsely, allowing himself to take comfort in the fact that she clutched him tighter at his words.

 

“And I love you.” She stroked his face. “Sleep, Wesley. I’ll be here when you wake.”

 

~~~~~

 

Nika stirred sleepily, slowly realizing that Wesley was having yet another nightmare. It had been a rough night for the both of them, as bad dreams had plagued the ex-Watcher, and consequently her as well.

 

The first couple of times he’d woken her with his tossing and turning, all the more frightening for his utter silence. From the look on his face, it was obvious that Wesley had been dreaming about being smothered. He wore the sort of expression one imagined drowning victims wearing just before they started swallowing water.

 

Both times Nika had shaken him awake and then had tightened her embrace. She knew without being told what he was dreaming about; he’d told her that Angel had tried to kill him with a pillow while he was in a hospital bed. It was no wonder he was dreaming about that particular incident again, given the cause of his emotional upheaval.

 

This time, however, Wesley was muttering something in his sleep—something about his father, and please, and let me out. Nika didn’t know much about his parents, but she knew enough to sense the distance that was there. Occasionally Wesley would make a comment about his father, and the culmination of those comments was that Nika strongly hoped she never met the man. She’d be too tempted to lay a particularly vile hex on him.

 

Nika nudged Wesley, shifting him slightly off of her arm, which had gone to sleep. “Hey, _cariad_, wake up. Come on, Wesley. It’s just a dream.”

 

He still tossed, muttering, struggling with the demons he couldn’t seem to outrun. “Ah, Wesley,” Nika murmured. “What have they made of you, my love?”

 

Not even her voice seemed to calm him, and so she bent down and kissed him on the lips, deepening it slowly as he began to respond to her. They might have been Prince Charming and Sleeping Beauty, except with the roles reversed.

 

Wesley’s eyes blinked open slowly as he realized that the nightmare had ended, and the bright light of day was streaming into the room. “Danika?”

 

“Yes?” She smiled at him, satisfied to see that he looked better rested than his rather restless night would have predicted.

 

“Were you here all night?” Wesley frowned slightly, dimly recalling the nightmares and her constant presence. “Did I wake you?”

 

“Several times,” Nika replied, smiling slightly to show she bore him no anger. “The waking up with you here was worth it, though.”

 

“You stayed,” he said, his voice holding a note of wonder.

 

“Wesley,” she replied patiently, “you’re in my bed. And I promised you I wouldn’t leave.” Her gray eyes glittered, and Wesley could sense a barely restrained anger—and behind that anger, a power. He forgot, sometimes, that she had her own skills, her own abilities. He might be a trifle better than an amateur magician with a little power, but her strength resided in her blood and training. “If I thought it would do you any good, I’d put a curse on both of them,” she said, voicing her thoughts of earlier.

 

He shook his head. “Angel had reason,” he said gently, recalling his earlier nightmares.

 

Nika looked disgruntled. “I’m not sure I care. I hate to see you in pain.” She smiled sweetly at him. “So sue me. I’m biased.”

 

Wesley chuckled. “That’s actually nice to hear.” He paused. “What time is it?”

 

“Late,” she replied without looking at the clock. “I think it’s after ten. I never sleep this late.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “And I don’t think Spike’s up yet. At least, I don’t hear him.”

 

“I hope he and Buffy had a good evening,” Wesley said sincerely.

 

Nika pushed herself off the bed. “Only one way to find out.” She smiled at him. “Why don’t you take a shower, _cariad_? You’ll probably want to get out of the clothes you slept in.”

 

“Indeed,” Wesley replied. “You don’t happen to—”

 

“Your spare clothing’s in the bottom drawer,” Nika said. She ran a hand through her hair and wandered out into the kitchen to make the coffee. She was taking her first sip when Wesley came up behind her.

 

“Do you know where my shirt is?” he asked. Nika turned and felt the bolt of desire hit her somewhere below the stomach.

 

She shook her head. “You ruined the last one you left here, remember?”

 

“Do you have another I might borrow, then?” Wesley asked, frowning. He couldn’t quite place the look on her face.

 

Nika gave him a saucy smile. “There’s one of Spike’s in the laundry room, but maybe you could just not wear a shirt?” she suggested. “I really wouldn’t mind.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

 

“Yes, really.” Their kiss this time was less sweet and more heated, heading rapidly for R-rated territory when they heard a throat being cleared. Wesley took his own sweet time pulling away from her, and looked back over at Spike.

 

“’bout bloody time,” was the vampire’s observation. “You got any of that coffee for Buffy?” he asked. “I’m goin’ to see if I can’t tempt her awake.”

 

Wesley looked a little surprised. “Buffy stayed here last night?”

 

“Yeah,” Spike said, trying to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. For all the sexcapades they’d engaged in, the last night just spent talking had been the best night he’d ever spent with the Slayer. By far. “We talked.”

 

Nika and Wesley exchanged amused glances, and Spike realized he probably had a goofy smile on his face. “It was nice!”

 

“I’m sure it was,” Nika assured him. “What comes next?”

 

Spike’s smile faded. He honestly had no idea what happened next. He didn’t even know what he _wanted_ to happen now. “Dunno,” he replied honestly. “We’ll just have to see how it goes.” The vampire grabbed his mug of coffee and disappeared down the stairs, leaving a slight pall behind him.

 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Nika said regretfully.

 

“It’ll be alright, love,” Wesley replied. He took the mug of coffee that Nika held out to him and looked thoughtfully at the basement door. “It’s just going to take some time.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy entered the Hyperion around noon. She and Spike had talked for hours, until the sun came up, and then she’d caught a nap on his couch before leaving. Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, Buffy smiled. They had managed to re-establish the cautious connection that had been there soon after her resurrection. She could honestly say that she understood Spike a lot better now than she ever had before.

 

Her warm and fuzzy feelings towards the vampire probably had something to do with the fact that Spike had talked for at least half the time. Instead of listening to her problems, she’d listened to his. She found out what demons he’d killed lately, that he and Wesley shared a love for movies and Playstation, and that he wasn’t seeing anyone.

 

That last had been a relief. Coupled with Nika’s obvious attraction to Wesley, Buffy had realized that she might still have a shot with him. Not a great one, of course, but the Slayer had come to the conclusion that men were the oil to her water. It didn’t matter how much she liked the guy; sooner or later he left, and she had no one to blame for it but herself.

 

Actually, come to think of it, she could blame every guy but Spike.

 

There wasn’t anything in the world that could disturb her sense of well-being right now. At least, that’s what she thought until she saw Angel barreling towards her. “Buffy! You’re back.” He frowned at her. “We were worried.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Dawn said from her position behind the lobby counter. She and Connor were doing something on the computer, and she raised her head to give her sister a smile. “Good night?”

 

“It was great,” Buffy replied. Not even Angel’s disapproving gaze could change that. “How was yours?” She was completely ignoring her ex-boyfriend at this point, having no use for his over-protective-jealous routine.

 

Dawn grinned. “Good. Connor and I watched movies all night with a friend of mine. We just got back a little while ago.”

 

Buffy didn’t even blink. She and Dawn had talked about their plans for the evening, and Buffy didn’t have a problem with overnight group activities. In fact, she was fairly well aware that she didn’t have a right to have a problem with any of Dawn’s activities. Her sister wasn’t a minor any longer, and she was paying her own way through college. “That’s good, Dawnie,” she replied, realizing that part of Angel’s discomfort stemmed from the fact that Connor was also out all night.

 

“Buffy, can I talk to you?” Angel looked upset, and Buffy bit back a sigh. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him. Every time they did, someone ended up getting hurt. Last time they had a talk about her boyfriend, it was centered around Riley, and it hadn’t ended well.

 

She nodded, knowing that she didn’t have a way out of it at this point. Following him into his office, she sat down as he shut the door. “What’s going on with Spike?” he asked, with no preamble.

 

“Spike and I are friends, Angel,” Buffy replied evenly, determined not to give anything away.

 

Angel sat down behind his desk, the large expanse of wood separating them. It could have been the Grand Canyon as far as Buffy was concerned, she felt that far removed from him these days. “Spike is evil.”

 

Buffy started laughing. She couldn’t help it. She’d used that phrase for years, even after he’d begun to show signs of changing. Using it to rebuff every advance he made, that excuse had been a shield. It was the rationalization she’d given herself for using Spike and then hurting him. Evil things don’t feel.

 

In reality, Spike did nothing _but_ feel. She could see it now.

 

“You know, Angel,” Buffy finally said, after she’d caught her breath. “Number one, Spike’s not evil. Number two, I’m really hurt that you think I’d let him around Dawn if he were. If he were evil, he would have had her for lunch the summer I was dead.” She didn’t bother explaining about the chip. She wasn’t in the mood.

 

Angel stared at her. “Buffy—”

 

“I’m not interested in talking about my relationship with Spike.” Buffy’s tone left no room for argument.

 

Angel hesitated and then sighed. “Fine, Buffy. That’s your call. There’s something else, though.”

 

“What is it, Angel?” She had to work hard to modulate her voice so that it didn’t come off as snappish as she felt. After all, Angel was sleeping with _Cordelia_, of all people. Granted, she’d changed, but still…people in glass houses, and all that.

 

“Is everything okay?” the vampire finally asked carefully. Angel had sensed something “off” about Buffy from the moment she’d first walked into the hotel, but he had no idea what it might be.

 

The Slayer sighed. Spike had told her last night that Angel probably sensed her pregnancy, even if he hadn’t said anything about it. Of course, Spike hadn’t said it quite like that, but Buffy had known what he meant. It was a friendly, yet unobtrusive, way of warning her that Angel would be asking some questions she might not want to answer.

 

“I’m pregnant,” she admitted.

 

Angel’s jaw dropped. “By Spike?”

 

Buffy stared. “What? No! What gave you that idea?”

 

“You—and he—with Connor…”

 

“My baby is not part of some prophecy,” Buffy said firmly. She didn’t actually know that for sure, but she’d have to kick someone’s ass if it was true. Her kid was not going to have some grand destiny that left them dead. And someone should have warned her. If it was part of someone’s grand design that she would get knocked up by a prick like Peter, they needed to have their idea of destiny rearranged. Preferably by her fist.

 

Angel looked doubtful, but he seemed to sense Buffy’s mood, and he didn’t argue. “Who’s the father, Buffy?”

 

“He’s not in the picture.” That was only partially true, since she was supposed to meet Peter and sign the papers next week. True to his word, he had gotten a lawyer—she got to keep the baby, and he got to keep his money.

 

The look on Angel’s face was oddly similar to the one on Spike’s—like he wanted to find the guy and rip his throat out. “Who is he?”

 

“Spike asked me the same question, and I gave him the same answer. You can’t kill him, Angel.” Buffy smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“What about slaying?” Angel insisted. “Who’s going to help you?”

 

Buffy looked uncertain for a brief second before managing to put on her happy face. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

 

Angel regarded her seriously, deciding to put the Spike thing aside for the moment and move on to the truly important matters: Buffy and her safety. “How long before slaying is a problem?”

 

“Another few months,” Buffy replied reluctantly, unsure of where he might be going with this line of questioning.

 

Angel nodded. “That’s what I thought. What if I sent Connor to you for a while?”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

 

“He’s a good fighter,” Angel explained patiently. “And a pretty good kid, if I do say so myself. Connor could take over patrol for you until the baby’s born and you’re ready to pick it up again.”

 

“Shouldn’t you check with him first?” Buffy asked, bemused.

 

Angel shrugged and then bellowed his son’s name. Connor’s head poked through the doorway moments later. “You called?”

 

“What would you think of going to Sunnydale for a while and taking over the slaying gig?”

 

Connor blinked. “What? Dad, if you’re trying to get rid of me—”

 

Buffy could sense an imminent explosion and hastened to intervene. “I don’t know if Dawn told you, but I’m pregnant,” the Slayer explained. “Your dad thought you could help me patrol the Hellmouth when I can’t.”

 

Connor stared at the both of them, trying to figure out if they were telling the truth or if Angel was trying to get him out of town for some reason. Reading nothing but honesty in their eyes and faces, he shrugged, abruptly saying, “Okay. I’ve never seen a Hellmouth before.”

 

“You don’t want to,” Buffy and Angel replied in unison. Green eyes met brown, and they shared a smile full of old memories of battles past. “Thanks, Connor,” Buffy said, not taking her eyes off of Angel. She realized she and Angel were actually sharing resources, and the Slayer wondered if perhaps they hadn’t finally made it past the worst of the bumps on their way to real friendship.

 

There was silence as the tension in the room disappeared, leaving nothing but camaraderie in its place. “Sure thing,” Connor said, backing out of the room.

 

The boy went over to sit next to Dawn by the computer again. “What’s up?” she asked.

 

“Not much,” Connor replied, watching the computer as Dawn took her turn at the role playing game. “Dad just wanted me to help your sister out on patrol in Sunnydale.”

 

Dawn smiled. “I’m glad,” she said honestly. “I’ll feel better knowing that you’re with her.”

 

Dawn wasn’t sure exactly when things had changed. Her sister might be acting like pod-Buffy right now, but Dawn had every intention of taking advantage of it. In fact, she might just have to rethink staying in L.A. for the summer. For the first time in a long time, she thought she might actually have the family she wanted.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy’s hand strayed toward the phone for what had to be the fifth time that day. Even though she’d had to work, her mind had continually wandered to Spike, wondering what he was doing. And even though she knew he was probably sleeping—hello? Vampire—she wanted to call him. She wanted to hear his voice, and it had only been a few days.

 

Of course, now that she was home and getting ready to go out and patrol, she had nothing to distract her from thoughts of Spike. Three years of not even knowing where he was, and suddenly she couldn’t get him out of her mind. It was as if missing Spike was a Pandora’s box, and once opened, impossible to close again.

 

Taking a deep breath, the Slayer picked up the phone. If he was busy, she could just leave a voicemail. At least she’d hear him on the message. And if he wasn’t busy, maybe he wouldn’t mind talking for a while.

 

She put the phone down again.

 

Spike hadn’t called her, and he hadn’t asked her to call him. In fact, he’d given no sign at all that he wanted to see her again, even though he knew she was coming back down for part of Dawn’s Christmas break. What if he’d gotten his closure, and didn’t want to see her again? What if he was still angry with her? After all, she’d said she was sorry, but he’d never said he’d forgiven her. And he’d never answered her letter. Buffy had the sinking feeling that Spike would never have answered her letter; it was just dumb luck, running into each other at Caritas that night.

 

Buffy sighed. She should respect his privacy and not call then. That would be better. Give Spike his space, and wait for him to contact her.

 

Except, what if he was waiting for her to make a move?

 

Suddenly, Buffy was just pissed off, both at herself and the stupid vampire who was managing to tie her up in knots without even knowing it. She gave a frustrated growl, grabbed a stake and stalked out the door. She needed to kill something to clear her head.


	15. December 2005

Spike stripped off his shirt, revealing pale skin marked with livid scratches. He and Wesley had just had a profitable, though slightly painful, night of demon slaying, and now all he really wanted was a shower and a drink. Hopefully, he could distract himself from the goings-on upstairs.

 

It wasn’t that he begrudged his friends their happiness; Wesley and Nika were clearly in the joyous exploratory stage of their relationship. It was, in fact, moving along quite nicely, propelled by a solid friendship. While they knew each other well, the physical aspect was all new.

 

Unfortunately for him, due to enhanced vampire senses, Spike could sense all their rapidly progressing physical exchanges. At least they hadn’t gotten _too_ noisy yet.

 

He sighed. If he had any idea what was going on with Buffy, he might be a little happier with their situation, but he didn’t. The morning she had left, Spike hadn’t wanted to ask if she wanted to see him again, and Buffy hadn’t offered. The fear of rejection was too great to risk the question.

 

Days had gone by and she hadn’t called. Spike knew she had his cell number, but he had no idea if she’d even get a hankering to talk to him. Maybe all she’d really wanted was closure, and that’s what she’d gotten. Perhaps they’d see each other occasionally and talk as old friends might, with nothing more between them.

 

Spike gave his cell phone, tossed carelessly on the sofa, a longing glance. He could call her. He doubted she’d mind. On the other hand, he couldn’t bear to hear the dismissive note in her voice again, the tone that told him she didn’t care. There was no reason to stick his neck out for her; he had friends, a nice place to live—he didn’t need Buffy.

 

That didn’t mean he didn’t still want her.

 

Scrubbing one hand over his face, Spike grabbed some clean clothing and headed for the shower. At least the noise of the water would help mask the sounds of the make-out session above him.

 

By the time he got out of the shower, having rather spitefully made certain he used all the hot water, the only thing Spike could hear were murmurs and slow heartbeats. He half-wondered if Wesley would be going home tonight, or if he’d stay. Spike plunked himself down on the sofa and turned on the TV, idly flipping channels. He’d just managed to find a suitably violent movie when his phone started ringing.

 

Not bothering to look at the caller I.D., Spike answered it. “Yeah.”

 

“Spike?”

 

“Buffy?” He blinked. He hadn’t really expected her to call.

 

There was a pause, and then, “Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”

 

“Good,” Spike said cautiously, muting the TV and settling into the couch. “You?”

 

“I’m good,” she said. “I was going to call you earlier, but I thought I’d go on patrol first.”

 

“’s okay. Not like I was in bed or anythin’. Find anything good on patrol?”

 

She laughed. “Not really. A few new vamps, and that’s about it. It’s been slow around here lately. What about you?”

 

Spike briefly told her about the job he and Wesley had been out on, and when she seemed interested, gave her a blow-by-blow account of the fight. Since it had involved several rather spectacular moves on his part, he wasn’t above a little bragging. As the story wound down, he couldn’t help wondering about the reason for her call. “Was there something you needed, Slayer?” he finally asked.

 

“Yes and no,” Buffy said slowly. “I mean, I just wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Oh,” Spike said intelligently. That was new. Sort of. It was a lot more like it had been right after Buffy had come back from the dead. Only better. Maybe. Spike thought his head might explode from the bewilderment their relationship was causing him. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

“Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice.” It was as close to saying she missed him as Buffy was willing to go. After all, she had only Dawn’s word to go on that he missed her.

 

There was a silence as Buffy wondered whether she’d stepped across some invisible boundary. Spike was still trying to decrypt the meaning behind her statement. “’s good to hear your voice too, pet,” he said, struggling to find some neutral ground that wouldn’t betray his heart too badly. “But you said yes on the needin’ something too, yeah?”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. She didn’t want to use him. She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to go down that road, not again. “The guy—the father, you know—has some papers he wants me to sign. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming with me. If you’re busy, or you don’t want to, or something that’s fine. I just thought it would be nice to have some moral support.”

 

There wasn’t anyone else who could go with her. Even though she didn’t say it, Spike knew it was true since Dawn had said everybody else was out of town till Christmas. “Why me?” he asked warily.

 

“I—because it would be nice if you could be there,” Buffy finally said, well aware that it wasn’t the whole truth. “And because I’d kind of like to see you again.”

 

Spike took a deep, unneeded breath. What was this? What did she want from him? And could he give it to her? “Do I get to kill him?”

 

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “No, Spike. It’s just—he’ll have his lawyer with him, and I don’t—I don’t want to be alone.”

 

It wasn’t precisely fear that he could hear in her voice. He wasn’t sure what it was, though. “When are you s’posed to sign these papers?”

 

She sighed in relief. Buffy wanted an excuse to ask him up, to see him again. “It’s Friday evening, around 6:30. I wanted to do it late enough in the day so if you could come down—you know.” The sun set early in the winter months.

 

Spike smiled a little. She didn’t want him frying, was what she was saying. But in order to get down there by the appointed hour, he would have to leave before sunset. “Be a bit hard to get up there while the sun’s still up, luv,” he reminded her. “All ‘ve got is the bike.”

 

“Oh. Well, you could come down before then,” she suggested. “If you want to. That is, if you don’t mind.”

 

Spike wasn’t sure he didn’t mind. Yet their last meeting had been more than civil; it had been down-right friendly. She wanted him there for moral support, which meant she wasn’t ashamed of being seen with him. Not with her wanker of an ex, at least. It would mean leaving tonight, so he could get there before dawn. A fact he reminded her of.

 

“I know,” Buffy replied, and he could hear that she was torn. “If you don’t want to, I’ll be fine. But I would like to see you again sometime.”

 

Spike paused, listening to the silence above him, thinking about it. Wesley didn’t have any jobs on the line for the next couple days, as far as he knew. He could go now. “And then what?”

 

“I don’t—”

 

“I come, an’ then what?” Spike asked. “Your friends are comin’ back in a few weeks. You gonna want to see me when they get into town?”

 

It was a fair question, and Buffy knew it. “If you’re asking me if things change when they’re here, the answer’s no, Spike.”

 

“Alright,” he replied, making an impulsive decision. It wasn’t like he was moving back to Sunnydale again, after all. He was going to go up, catch some shut-eye, and accompany Buffy on her errand. Then he would come back to L.A. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 

Spike grabbed his jacket and keys and came up the stairs, only to run into Wesley in the kitchen. “You not stayin’?” he asked, seeing that the other man also had his coat on.

 

“Probably best,” Wesley said, looking a little embarrassed. “Neither of us are quite ready for that next step. If we’re going to wait, I shouldn’t stay here.” He gave Spike a look. “You’re going out?”

 

“Buffy called,” Spike explained. “She wants some company when she sees that bloke’s lawyer. ‘s tomorrow evening, after sunset.”

 

“But you have to leave tonight,” Wesley said in understanding. He hesitated, and then asked quietly, “Do you think this is wise, Spike?”

 

“Dunno,” Spike replied quietly. “But she said she wanted to see me again, even if I didn’t help her out with this. Said it was up to me.” His eyes got a faraway look to them. “Won’t lie to you, mate. ‘d love it if she welcomed me with open arms an’ begged me not to leave, but ‘s not goin’ to happen.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Wesley said, trying to be encouraging. “Perhaps she’ll want you to stay.”

 

“That’s the thing,” Spike said. “I’m not goin’ to stay.”

 

“I thought—”

 

Spike shook his head. “Not goin’ there, Wesley. This is where my life is, with you an’ Nika. Whatever my feelings for Buffy might be, an’ whatever she might be feelin’ right now, it doesn’t change that.”

 

“And if Buffy wants to come to L.A.?” Wesley asked knowingly.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “That’ll be the day hell freezes over.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike reached the front door of 1630 Revello in a little under two hours by virtue of having pushed his bike to its limits. Parking the motorcycle in the driveway, he pulled off his helmet and tucked it under one arm, then grabbed his saddle bags and tossed them over his shoulder.

 

He wasn’t a big fan of wearing a helmet, but as Wesley often reminded him, it was the law in California. And, since he wasn’t eating people anymore, Spike didn’t want to risk getting pulled over. Not being totally evil could seriously cut into your ability to flaunt the law.

 

The door swung open before he could knock, leaving him to face Buffy without the chance to compose himself. She was obviously ready to stay in for the evening, since she had a set of flannel pajamas on. Not saying anything, she backed off, stepping aside to let him enter. When he still hesitated, she said, “Your invitation is still good here, Spike.”

 

He smiled, a little shyly, and stepped across the threshold. Oddly, it felt like the first time again, in a way. Or more like when she’d re-issued her invitation, the night she’d died (the second time). Spike hadn’t overly appreciated being invited into her home when he’d teamed up with her to stop Angelus. It wasn’t until he’d thrown it all away that he had realized what had been lost.

 

And wasn’t that always the case? You never knew what you had until you’d lost it all.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I got my old room ready for you,” Buffy was saying. “I moved into mom’s a while back. But there are blankets over the windows, so you should be okay.”

 

“That’s fine, luv,” Spike replied. He knew it was late, and that she was probably ready to go to bed. “I’ll just entertain m’self for a while, if that’s alright. Not quite ready for sleep yet.”

 

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d used the endearment, but Buffy had, although she didn’t say anything about it. There was a part of her that wanted to stay up with him, that wanted to ask if he really didn’t mind coming. The part of her that was becoming a responsible adult knew she had work in the morning, and that it was already going to be hard enough to haul herself out of bed.

 

“Feel free,” Buffy invited. “There are movies and stuff, if you want to plug a video in, and there’s blood in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

 

Spike nodded, feeling ill at ease. He’d wanted this very thing so many times before. In fact, the vampire could say that at one point he would have given everything for the offer to stay the night. In a sense, the invitation to stay now meant more than the offer of sex would have. It meant more to him to stay in her house as her guest and her friend, than to stay there as her lover.

 

It didn’t change the awkwardness, however. He still had no idea what she wanted from him.

 

Buffy seemed to feel it too, standing poised at the bottom of the stairs, prevaricating between going up and staying with him. Feeling that she needed to do something, she finally said, “I’m glad you could come, Spike.”

 

A little of the tension dissipated, and he smiled at her. “My pleasure, Buffy.”

 

As she climbed the stairs to go to bed, she realized why that smile had seemed so out of place on his face. It was so rare to see an expression on his face that wasn’t smirking or leering or hurt.

 

At the door to her bedroom, she half-turned, thinking to go down. To explain again what had happened to her, to them. To apologize for dismissing all his potential. Her hand tightened on the knob. They could have been happy. She’d suspected the truth, but now she knew.

 

They could have been so good together.

 

Downstairs, Spike stood in the living room. He could hear Buffy’s footsteps, hear her pause at the door to her room. Idly, he wondered what would happen if he went up to her. Not that he would; Spike had promised himself that he wouldn’t fall into that trap again.

 

But he wondered—what it would be like to make love to her in her own bed, have her invite him in. He could still smell her, taste her, remember what it had been like. At least he knew what the sex was like. Making love to the Slayer, with her wanting it as much as he, had been something that happened only in his richest dreams. But he wondered—what it would be like to wake up with her by his side, to have a conversation without her running away.

 

He realized he had taken a longing step towards the stairs, and pulled himself back. It was over—that part of his unlife was done.

 

But he could have made it so good for her, if only she had let him.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike woke up late the next afternoon, just as Buffy was coming in from work. “Spike, you up?” she called up the stairs. “We’ve got to leave in an hour or so.”

 

“I’m awake,” he called. Standing and stretching, he opened the bedroom door to find Buffy in the hallway. “How was work?”

 

“Work,” she replied with a rueful smile. “It’s never all that exciting.”

 

“’s too bad you can’t do what Wesley an’ I do for a livin’.” Spike grinned at her. “It’d be right up your alley.”

 

“That’s one way to put it,” Buffy agreed. “I’m going to get cleaned up, if you’re hungry.”

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah, ‘m a bit peckish.” As Buffy had promised, there was blood in the fridge for him. While he waited for his mug-full to heat up, he poked around in the cupboards, noticing with a sense of relief that they were better stocked than they had been a few years ago. There was more fresh stuff as well, indicating that Buffy might actually be cooking now.

 

As he stood, drinking his dinner and waiting for Buffy to come back down, Spike struggled with the sense of the fantastic. If someone had told him even a few weeks before that he would be standing in the Slayer’s kitchen, drinking blood she’d bought for him, and waiting to go out with her, he would have told them they were off their nut.

 

Buffy came into the kitchen after he’d finished his meal. Spike was standing by the back door, looking out into the yard and the rapidly lengthening shadows. “What are you thinking of?”

 

“Nothin’.” Spike turned to face her. “Just—how many times I’d been back there, ‘s all. How long it had been since the last time.” He fiddled with his lighter. “Thought I might wait a few minutes and go have a smoke.”

 

“You could have one on the way,” Buffy suggested. “We have to leave soon anyway.”

 

He nodded. “Might be better to wait then. ‘s not good to smoke ‘round you right now.” Spike hesitated, then asked the question that had been bugging him. “You want to tell me what signin’ these papers is all about? Didn’t think it took a contract to have a kid.”

 

“You wouldn’t think so, would you?” Buffy asked. Her eyes were shadowed with regret. Getting involved with Peter had been a phenomenally stupid decision on her part. “Peter doesn’t want the baby, and I don’t want him involved. It’s a mutual and binding agreement so we both make sure we get what we want.”

 

“And who wants what more?” Spike asked softly, smelling a rat. “Buffy—”

 

She shook her head. “I’ve done the uninvolved father thing, Spike. I would rather raise a child on my own and never have them know their dad, than have them disappointed every time he breaks a promise. Besides, I fought for custody over Dawn. I don’t want to have the same problem with my own child.”

 

Spike nodded slowly, understanding. “Makes sense. ‘s not like the kid’s goin’ to be hurtin’ for people. Probably have more aunts and uncles than they know what to do with.”

 

Buffy smiled in appreciation for his attempt at comfort. “I’m sure.” She glanced over at the clock. “Come on. We should go.”

 

The drive to the lawyer’s office was made in silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Spike had yet to acknowledge the jealousy he felt towards this man. He knew Buffy wasn’t his girl; as she’d said herself, she would never be his girl. He still felt as though he had a sort of proprietary interest.

 

Buffy was _his_ Slayer. He’d marked his territory the first time he’d seen her on the dance floor of the Bronze. His to kill; his to love. Never mind that she had refused to oblige him on both counts.

 

She cut the engine on her mom’s old SUV and looked over at the vampire. “No matter what happens, you can’t kill him,” Buffy said forcefully.

 

“I’m on a strictly non-human diet right now,” he reminded her, a trifle hurt that she thought he’d needed the warning.

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Buffy said quietly. “I just want to sign the papers and get it over with. Okay, Spike?”

 

Spike tried to figure out what she wasn’t telling him. “Sure, luv. If that’s what you want.” He followed her into the building, feeling a bit like a bodyguard, and he suddenly wondered when it was that the Slayer couldn’t watch her own back.

 

The office was plush, and Spike could smell the money. Whoever this ponce was, he was capable of taking care of Buffy and the baby. He just didn’t want to.

 

Spike knew which of the two men was her ex immediately. It had to be the guy that looked just a bit like Angel. He wasn’t sure whether to be angered or disgusted or even just a trifle amused by the resemblance. When the man opened his mouth to speak, Spike understood Buffy’s caution not to kill him.

 

“So, I see you already found a replacement, huh, Buf? Didn’t take you too long.” Spike longed to wipe the smirk off of his face, but Buffy spoke before he could react.

 

“Spike’s an old friend of the family, Peter,” she replied, a touch of steel in her voice. “Can we just get this over with?”

 

“Why don’t we all have a seat,” the lawyer suggested smoothly, introducing himself as Mr. Banks. He pulled out the contract, two copies, and handed one to Buffy. “If you just want to initial and sign where I’ve marked, we’ll be all through.”

 

Buffy picked up the pen, ready to get it done, but Spike laid a gentle hand on hers. “Not just yet, Buffy. You should look over it first.”

 

“It’s just what we agreed on,” Peter said impatiently, ready to go now that he’d failed to get a rise out of either his ex or her friend.

 

Spike gave him a hard look, reminding himself that eating the bugger wasn’t an option. Plus, he probably wouldn’t taste all that great anyway. “I think we’ll read it just the same.”

 

He skimmed quickly, picking up the various clauses without difficulty. Spike could tell when Buffy gave up, trusting him to catch anything out of the ordinary. As the man had said, it was what they agreed upon, but there were a few extra clauses that caught Spike’s eye and made his borrowed blood boil.

 

Giving Buffy a tight nod to let her know that he hadn’t found anything that should prevent her from signing, Spike watched as she initialed and signed. She gave a sigh of relief once she’d finished both copies, and Mr. Banks handed one to her. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Summers.”

 

“Sure,” Buffy replied, a little of her usual sarcasm in her voice. “It was good to see you, Peter. Hope it doesn’t happen again any time soon.”

 

Peter shrugged. “I’m moving—elsewhere. If you need to contact me, you can do it through my lawyer. Have fun with the brat, Buf.”

 

Spike could picture himself tossing the man through the plate glass window behind him, but satisfied himself with letting out a low growl. Blue eyes met brown in a battle of wills, and it was Peter who looked away first, his face flushing. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Spike said softly. “You’re no man.”

 

He followed Buffy out the door, his anger burning like a bright flame, and he couldn’t say with whom he was more upset: Peter or Buffy. “I’ll drive,” he said shortly, waiting until Buffy gave him the keys and sliding behind the wheel.

 

There was a moment of strained silence, and Buffy said quietly, “Thanks for not making a scene.”

 

“Yeah.” Spike put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start it. “What the bloody hell did you ever see in that bastard?”

 

Buffy’s jaw tightened. The question sounded more like an accusation, and the Slayer wasn’t feeling all that thrilled with the circumstances herself. She felt a lot like she had right after the Parker fiasco—ashamed and used. “Spike—”

 

“Did you know he has _plans_? Prob’ly to run for office, given the stench of money and the clauses,” Spike said angrily. “Part of that contract you just signed prohibits you from even acknowledging him as the father—ever. It’s not just about money, Buffy, it’s about his reputation. He’s keepin’ his clean an’ treatin’ you like garbage.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy said. “It’s not like our relationship was ever built to last anyway.”

 

“But you let him—”

 

“So what?” Buffy demanded. “I’m an adult, Spike. I can sleep with anybody I want to. I wanted to sleep with Peter. I did. End of story. So he’s a bastard. He’s not the first one I’ve ever slept with.”

 

The silence that fell was deadly, the implications of Buffy’s words clear to both of them She didn’t hasten to correct his conclusions. “So you were just usin’ him then, is that right? Just a good roll in the hay to make you feel?”

 

“Well, it’s not like you were around to do the honors,” Buffy shot back, angry at his words and the truth behind them. In actuality, she’d liked Peter, just as she’d liked Parker. They’d given her a snow job, and she’d fallen for it.

 

Spike’s eyes blazed. “Shall I remind you why I left, Buffy?” He started the engine with a savage jerk of the keys. “I’ll take you home.”

 

The damage had been done again. Buffy wondered how it was that they always knew just what to say to hurt the most. Even when they were enemies, with no hint of anything softer between them, they had seen one another clearly enough to inflict damage. Buffy had known to go after Drusilla, what to say to tease and taunt. Spike had known just what truth to speak to cut to the quick.

 

He had spoken the truth tonight, and it had the peculiar echo of memory.

 

“Spike—”

 

“Forget it,” he snarled. “I shouldn’t have come.”

 

“I’m sorry.” The words hung suspended, and Buffy thought he might throw them back in her face. “It’s just—I liked him a lot. I thought he was different.”

 

Spike’s knuckles turned white around the steering wheel as he fought himself, fought the demon within. Just because he didn’t look at humans as a natural resource anymore didn’t mean it was always easy. He finally let out a breath. “You hungry?”

 

“Starving,” Buffy replied, not knowing quite where the vampire was going with that.

 

He didn’t say anything, however, simply put the car in reverse and left the parking lot. A few minutes later, Spike pulled into the lot of one of the better restaurants in town. “Come on.” Spike had a quick word with the hostess when they entered, and they were led back to a corner booth, well away from most of the other patrons.

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Spike met her eyes, the blue as dark as the night sky. “Don’t like to see you hurt. An’ I wanted to toss the arse-wipe out the window.”

 

Buffy smiled. “Yeah, you and me both.”

 

“He didn’t know you were the Slayer, did he?”

 

“No.” Buffy sighed. “None of them really knew. I didn’t think they could handle it.”

 

“How many—” Spike stopped himself. “No, don’t answer that. ‘s not important.” There was a pause. “What are you goin’ to do now?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Work until I can’t, I guess. I haven’t had the job for long enough to qualify for maternity leave. I’ll either have to go back right away, or figure something else out. Giles is working on something with the Council for me.”

 

“The Council of Wankers?” Spike asked with a raised brow. “Sure you want them in your life?”

 

“No, but apparently I’m one of the first Slayers ever to get pregnant. Most of the time we die before we’re old enough to be out on our own. Giles thinks he might be able to strong-arm them into giving me a pension, or something like that.” Buffy shrugged a little. “Giles thinks that the activity around the Hellmouth might be changing, dying down a little. If so, I might not even have to stay in Sunnydale.”

 

“Where would you go?” Spike asked, fiddling with his silverware.

 

Buffy laughed a little. “I don’t know. If you’d asked me a year ago, I would have said Europe, Africa, anywhere. I’ve never gotten the chance to go to a different country. We were supposed to go as a family—before I got Called. After that, it wasn’t an option.” She looked down at the table, at Spike’s hands, so strong. She remembered the feel of those hands with longing.

 

She remembered how safe she’d felt putting her sister’s life into those hands. How safe she’d felt putting her own life there. Even after she had known the chip didn’t work on her, Buffy had never feared that Spike would drain her dry.

 

She had believed in his love without even knowing she did so.

 

“And now,” Buffy said, continuing, “there’s not much I can do with a baby. Not for a while anyway. Do you know how expensive having a kid is?”

 

“I can imagine,” Spike replied. He was still angry, but not so much at Buffy. There was a reason that he hadn’t been able to kill her that night on her porch; he hadn’t been able to stand seeing her in pain. In that moment he had accepted his fate. He loved the Slayer; she was going to treat him like shit.

 

The real letdown had been the way she treated him like nothing but a monster, after treating him like a man before she’d died.

 

Spike sighed. “Didn’t come here to get all over your case, pet.”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Buffy said. “I should have known. It was almost like—you know. One minute he’s this really charming guy, and we’re having a great time. And then I get pregnant and he’s Mr. Hyde-ing it.”

 

Spike cocked his head to one side, regarding her with a gaze both so intense and so kind that she could hardly believe it.  “You’ll get through this, luv. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”

 

Buffy smiled through teary eyes. “You ever wonder what would have happened if you’d stayed, Spike?”

 

“Nothing good,” he said quietly. “Was gettin’ pretty close to the brink, myself.” Spike fixed her with a hard gaze, the tenderness swallowed up by determination. “’m not comin’ back to Sunnydale.”

 

“You already told me that,” Buffy reminded him. “Can—can I ask you a favor, Spike? I know it’s not fair to ask this of you, so don’t feel like you have to agree.”

 

Spike watched her suspiciously. “What’s that?”

 

“If something happens to me, I want you to promise me you’ll look after my child.”

 

Spike was flabbergasted. “Uh, Buffy, you do realize you’re askin’ a vampire to play godfather, right? Why not ask Red? Or Rupert, if you get right down to it.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Willow and Xander aren’t ready to take care of a baby, either of them. And Giles wouldn’t know the first thing about it. Dawn’s too young—”

 

“And that leaves me,” Spike said quietly. There was a part of him that wanted to be angry at her for requiring yet another promise of him, when she had offered him nothing in return. The other part of him wanted to be angry that she could think he would do anything else.

 

Buffy glanced away. “I know it’s not fair to ask you, Spike. I do. But you’ve got good friends who would help, and you keep your promises. I would feel better about it, knowing you would be there.”

 

“What about Peaches?” Spike countered. “He’s got the cheerleader, an’ he’s had a baby. For a while, anyway. You know he’d jump at the chance.”

 

“If you say no, he would be my next choice,” she admitted. “You’re the one I asked to take care of Dawn, though, Spike. I trust you.”

 

“I’m a vampire, Buffy,” Spike reminded her softly. “’m a monster. I have no business raising a child.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to make sure she knew that. Their relationship was never going to be more than it was right at this moment.

 

She shook her head. “It’s just if something happens to me,” Buffy reminded him. “And you’re my monster.”

 

Spike wanted to argue with her, to tell her he was no one’s but his own. He wanted to protest that he’d spent the last three years trying to be free of her, and she was tying his heart to hers with one more responsibility.

 

He did nothing of the sort, because it was all true. He was a monster, and he was hers. But he had also learned to be his own.

 

Spike looked into the eyes of the Slayer and promised her unborn child, just as he’d promised Dawn. “Till the end of the world.”


	16. March 2004

“So, we going or what?” Spike asked impatiently from his spot by the kitchen door. “Thought you said this was important.”

 

The expression on Wesley’s face was unruffled. After nearly a year of Spike’s company, he knew the vampire fairly well. Spike would needle a rock to try and get a reaction, he could be as impatient as the day was long, and he was loyal to a fault. The best way to deal with Spike, he’d discovered, was simply not to rise to the bait. Ever. Staying cool, while treating the vampire with respect, gave Wesley a competent partner and an incredibly steadfast advocate.

 

It was a refreshing change from people he would not name.

 

“It is important,” Wesley replied. “However, we have a meeting with an informant first, and we don’t need to leave for a few minutes yet.”

 

Spike frowned, obviously ready to be up and away. “This informant require my fists?”

 

“Hardly.” Wesley took a sip of the tea Nika had thoughtfully brewed for him. She’d left shortly after he had arrived, but she had prepared the kettle and left out a plate of scones. If he wasn’t careful, Wesley knew that he’d put on more than the few pounds she swore were necessary. Feeding people seemed to be a compulsion with her. “I’m sure you’ll work out all the aggression you need on our target tonight. A Harin nest is hardly something to take lightly.”

 

“Preachin’ to the choir here,” Spike reminded him. While he might not have the encyclopedic knowledge that the ex-Watcher did, the vampire did have an impressive grasp of demon habits and lore. Wesley never was quite sure what Spike did or didn’t know; it was often a surprise. “You gonna be okay to go in, though? Harins won’t take a bite out of me, but they’d look at you as a right tasty meal.”

 

Wesley shrugged. “I’ll simply have to make sure they don’t get the chance to take a bite then, won’t I?”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “S’pose so.” He gave the man a piercing look. “You doin’ okay, mate?”

 

Wesley looked uncomfortable before he managed to regain his poker face. He’d perfected it over the last couple of years, priding himself on not revealing anything to the outside world. Unfortunately, it seemed at times as though Spike had x-ray vision. “I’m fine,” he replied stiffly.

 

“Yeah, fine,” Spike echoed. His eyes were kind. “Wesley, ‘ve been—where you were, yeah? ‘s not where you are anymore. You got a problem, I’d be happy to take care of it for you.”

 

Wesley only wished the vampire could. Nightmares, however, weren’t something that could be fought with fists and fangs. This time of the year, near the anniversary of his terrible mistake and subsequent banishment, the nightmares seemed to plague him anew. It wasn’t something he wanted to explain, but he knew he had to say something. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admitted. “There’s not much to do about that, however.”

 

Spike nodded, entirely serious for a change, lines appearing on his youthful face that weren’t always so easily seen. Moments like this he looked almost more ageless than he usually did—both old and young at once. “Been there,” Spike said. “You might want to think ‘bout talkin’ to Nika. She’s got some stuff—”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Wesley interrupted, abruptly dismissing the idea.

 

Spike snorted. “Yeah, right. Look Wesley, if you’re thinkin’ the nightmares are penance, you’ve already paid your dues. ‘sides, Nika gets a good look at you, she’ll have me sittin’ on your chest so she can pour somethin’ down your throat. Trust me.”

 

Wesley smiled, knowing very well that the woman’s maternal instinct was finely honed. Spike was right. If she got the chance to take a good look at him, she would know something was wrong, and she would want to do something about it. In a way, Wesley didn’t have a problem with the idea of accepting Nika’s help if she offered—or ordered, which was more likely. It was the asking that presented the dilemma. He didn’t want to ask.

 

“When she notices, I promise to take my medicine like a good boy,” he replied wryly. “Until then, however, we have work to do.”

 

Spike pushed himself up from the table. “’bout time.”

 

~~~~~

 

As Wesley explained the nature of the demons as well as the plan for their destruction, Spike bit back the desire to shut him up. He knew by now that Wesley lectured as a retreat from nerves or emotions. If he was feeling anxious about the upcoming fight, or if he was having a hard time in general, he’d start sounding like a textbook.

 

Spike understood nervous habits. After all, it wasn’t like the nicotine did anything for him. Smoking had become a habit over the years, something that eased the tension of the moment, that gave him something to do with his hands. The taste and smell of the smoke—particularly strong to a vampire—soothed him. For Wesley, it was rote knowledge and lecturing as though from a pulpit. It was best just to let him ramble on, let him ease his mind with words and information.

 

Harins were dangerous, but they weren’t all that agile or hard to kill, from what Spike understood. They did like making snacks out of humans, being rather fond of kidneys, but if you had a pointy weapon and knew how to use it, they weren’t a potent threat. Of course, they’d upset a kindergarten class when they’d tried to make a snack out of the teacher. Apparently, budget cuts had caused the classroom to be moved to the basement, and the voices had disturbed the Harins enough so that they’d gone to investigate. It should have been their hibernating season, but with ample temptation, they were willing to break tradition to eat. It had been a rather astute school administrator who had hired them.

 

Spike let Wesley’s words wash over him, nodding or interjecting a few comments in the right places. He assured the ex-Watcher that he would be careful, that he wouldn’t risk his physical safety more than he had to, and that he’d use his ax to go for their heads. “We know that there are at least four, Spike,” Wesley stated, winding up the lecture. “Going after the head is the only way to ensure a quick kill.”

 

“Think I don’t know that?” Spike asked, with some amusement. “Wesley, we already talked about all that. Matter of fact, we both know I could walk in there and take care of all of them myself.” They didn’t actually know anything of the sort, and Spike was hoping the human wouldn’t call his bluff. “What’s got you so worked up, mate? Haven’t heard that kind of lecture since I was in school, an’ that was long before your time.”

 

Wesley looked away, unwilling to share his emotional turmoil, unwilling to acknowledge that even though it had been two years, his friends’ rejection still hurt. “I simply wanted to ensure your compliance.”

 

Spike didn’t like words like compliance. Submission, obedience, and subservience also struck wrong chords. He’d spent too much time belonging undead-heart, body, and mind to someone else. He hadn’t traded one master for another. “I don’t comply,” he said, his tone hard. “Might agree, because it’s a good plan, but I’m not your employee, Wesley. I do this as a favor to you, remember? I could make just as much money playin’ poker a few nights out of the week.”

 

There was more to the vampire’s words than Wesley’s poor use of semantics. He winced, nodding. “Of course, Spike. I’m sorry.”

 

Spike shrugged, his anger receding as quickly as it had come. “’s okay, mate.” He sighed. “You do know you start goin’ off like that when you’re feelin’ a bit bad about somethin’, right? ‘s like a tell in a game of poker.”

 

Wesley wasn’t sure if he had known or not, but he thought Spike might be right. “Now’s not the time for that. We should go.”

 

They left their bikes where they were in the parking lot of the school and went inside. The human had the directions to the basement memorized, and Spike followed his lead, his yellow eyes glowing in the dark—the better to see you with, my dear. It always amazed him that Wesley could walk so calmly with a demon at his back.

 

Spike wondered, not for the first time, if the man’s sense of self-preservation hadn’t been damaged.

 

The boiler room was exactly where Wesley’s contact had said it would be, but when they entered, all Spike could do was let out a string of curses. It seemed their informant hadn’t been accurate on the numbers. It was going to be an ugly fight.

 

They fought back to back because there was no other way to keep track of one another in the melee. There was also no other way to make sure one of the demons didn’t take a chunk out them while they were trying to ax another. The Harins might not be quick, but they were big, and there were over fifteen. The numbers threatened to overwhelm them, and it seemed that those who had woken early had gone to get the rest of their clan for a hearty meal.

 

Spike might have wished for a flame-thrower, if he’d had the time to think about it. As it was, the vampire was too busy killing Harins and making sure they didn’t start munching on Wesley. Not to forget the fact that their information was a little off. The demons might not _prefer_ vampire, but they weren’t above taking a bite out of one.

 

He roared in full-out vamp mode as one of the smaller ones sunk its teeth into his leg. With a swing that would have put Tiger Woods to shame, the ax severed its head. The demons were fewer now, and Spike unexpectedly sensed that there were more humans in the room with him. In fact, he was feeling downright crowded with heartbeats.

 

As the last Harin squealed its death-cry, the vampire barely had time to deflect the stake aimed in his direction. “Hey!” Spike protested. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

 

“Gunn! Don’t!” Wesley was suddenly standing between him and the tall black man with a stake. Spike could see a mixture of disgust and anger on the stranger’s face that was reminiscent of the Slayer at her most Slayer-like. “He’s a friend.”

 

“You hookin’ up with random vamps now, Wes?” the man called Gunn demanded. “I’d have thought better of you.”

 

Spike could see Wesley stiffen, as though he’d been struck. From where he stood he could see two women, both looking worried—as though they wanted to intervene but couldn’t. If they were who he thought they were, Spike knew Angel couldn’t be far behind.

 

He wasn’t.

 

“Wes?” Angel sounded incredulous as he came back in through the door, having chased the last straggler down. “What are you doing here?”

 

Wesley’s voice sounded foreign to Spike’s ears. It was cold, diamond-edged. “I might ask you the same, Angel. We were hired to clear out this nest by a school administrator.”

 

Angel blinked at the “we,” and then his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of Spike. While Spike wasn’t above giving his grandsire as hard a time as possible, he was not in a winning position. The ladies might not try for a kill, but Angel and Gunn had no qualms. Spike wanted out of this suddenly-small room where he had a chance to fight and/or run, and didn’t feel so much like a trapped rat.

 

“Move out of the way, Wes,” Angel demanded.

 

Wesley didn’t budge. “You’ll have to kill me first. Spike is under my protection, Angel.”

 

Spike suddenly felt as though he couldn’t quite breathe, even though air was unnecessary. In the past, he had been rescued, he had been relied upon, promises had been demanded of him—but no one in all his unlife had ever offered their life for his before. No one had ever put him under their protection and said, in essence, “You may have him over my dead body.”

 

Maybe it was a bluff on Wesley’s part; the human knew that Angel wouldn’t kill him in cold blood, not after they had witnessed Wesley and Spike fighting the good fight. (Albeit for a nice, fat paycheck.) Even if it was though, Angel had tried to kill Wesley before, and the ex-Watcher had to know that the older vampire could be just as dangerous with a soul as without. For a brief moment, Spike really thought Angel might kill them both—go right through Wesley to reach into his chest and yank out his unbeating heart.

 

Spike realized that he loved Wesley in that moment. Not the poofy kind of love, but the kind of love you have for a brother in arms. The kind that would lead you to lay down your life for him. Words from his distant childhood echoed in his mind: “No greater love has a man than this—that he lay down his life for his friends.”

 

Spike was a creature of extremes—love and hate, joy and despair. His love and loyalty were of the all-out, no-holds-barred variety, but no one had ever responded to him in kind, not even Drusilla. (Except Dawn. But Dawn was unique in his mind.) To be on the receiving end broke something inside him, made him softer—in a good way. The man might not know it, but with his words, Wesley had bound Spike to himself in a way he hadn’t been before. 

 

The moment passed, and some of the tension left Angel’s posture. Wesley seemed frozen by the sight of his old friends, now that the danger was over. “What are you doing in L.A., Spike? I thought you were supposed to be in Sunnydale with Buffy.”

 

“Shows how much you talk to her then, doesn’t it?” Spike sneered. Relief and wonder were coursing through him in equal parts, and he was feeling mad-dog protective of Wesley. The ex-Watcher wasn’t moving, his face cold and distant. “Left Sunnydale ages ago, Peaches. Decided to try my luck in the demon-hunting business here.” Spike said nothing about the chip or about Buffy. There was time to spill that news when he was feeling a little more ready for a fight with his grand-sire. “What are you doin’ here? ‘cause we’re not sharin’ the plunder.”

 

Angel looked uncomfortable, as though he couldn’t decide whether to just leave or do the friendly thing and answer the question. Now that the crisis was over, he had no desire to be near his old friend or Spike. “Cordy had a vision of a nest of Harins under a school. We thought we should take care of it.”

 

Spike caught the guilty look on the Cheerleader’s face out of the corner of his eye, and he knew. Oh, she’d seen the Harins alright, but it was Wesley she’d come to save. Wesley and Spike, anyway, and she hadn’t told Angel. Spike wondered if the older vampire would have come, had he known whom he was rescuing. Spike didn’t think she was so certain, and that was why she’d kept the details of her vision private.

 

“We should be on our way,” Spike said, laying a gentle hand on Wesley’s arm, trying to pull him out of the trance he was in. He could smell the waves of fear and guilt rolling off his friend, and Spike tugged a little harder. “We’ve done our job.”

 

Wesley moved as in a trance, and Spike kept a tight grip on his ax. He might not be actively hunting humans right now, but if any of them or his ponce of a grand-sire tried to stop them, he wouldn’t even think about it. Spike met Cordelia’s eyes as they passed, and they exchanged an understanding. Cordy had wanted to protect Wesley out of love for him; Spike would continue to protect him for the same reason.

 

They passed out of the boiler room under a gauntlet of eyes, and Spike managed to get Wesley up to the motorcycles without trouble. The other man had retreated deep within himself, his face deeply lined. “She knew.”

 

Spike swallowed. He heard the despair in Wesley’s voice and understood. Wesley knew that Cordelia had known, and that Angel hadn’t. He could see why it might upset Wesley that there would be doubt as to whether Angel would come riding in to the rescue if he’d known the whole story. “Yeah.” He paused. “I need a drink. I know a place.”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley downed his second shot with a determined air that Spike found impressive. It was obvious that the man had experience at this sort of thing, even though Spike had only seen him drink beer in the past, and then only a couple at a time. What was more impressive was that Wesley didn’t seem to have any more trouble downing the shot of bourbon than he would water.

 

Spike took another sip of his beer and watched. Someone had to be sober enough to get them home in one piece.

 

When Wesley didn’t look any closer to spilling his guts than he had before, Spike nodded to the cocktail waitress to bring him another shot. She brought the bottle a few minutes later, and Spike handed her a couple bills with a big enough tip to leave her smiling. He poured another shot, and sat back in the corner booth, the cheap vinyl crackling under him.

 

It wasn’t the best of places—he much preferred Caritas for a good time. But Caritas involved seeing the Host, who knew Wesley and his past all too well. Right now, Spike knew the best kind of bar was somewhere they could drink in secluded anonymity.

 

Spike had every intention of getting Wesley drunk enough to spill his guts and lance that festering wound. He didn’t care what anyone else thought—Peaches was not worth this kind of angst.

 

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked after the man slammed his third shot.

 

“No.”

 

Spike poured another couple fingers and waited. “Might help.”

 

“No.” This time the vampire stayed silent. He could sense Wesley’s resolve weakening. It had been the same way that summer Buffy was gone. Dawn would be upset over some little thing—not the big things, the big things he could always tell about—and he would get her to talk this way. Just little phrases and a lot of waiting, except he plied the girl with ice cream instead of bourbon.

 

Spike could be the most patient man in the world when it suited him.

 

“You know about Connor?”

 

The question was a surprise, but Spike hid it expertly. “Sure. It was the talk of the town when I got here a couple years ago or so.”

 

Wesley nodded. “Then you know he was Angel and Darla’s child?”

 

Spike shrugged. “That’s why it was all over town. That why Angel tried to kill you? Somethin’ about the kid?”

 

“I thought Angel was going to kill him,” Wesley said. He had no idea why he was telling the vampire this. Even Nika hadn’t gotten the whole story out of him, just enough to draw her own conclusions. At the same time, Spike’s eyes were so—tender, if that was an adjective you could use for a cold-blooded killer. He knew exactly what Spike was—he just didn’t care quite as much as he should. The vampire restrained himself for unfathomable reasons. That was enough.

 

Haltingly, he explained. “There was a prophecy that said the father would kill the son. I was sure—I tried interpreting it every way I could, tried getting around it somehow. Angel was acting strangely around Connor. There was no one else I could tell—”

 

“So you took the kid for his own good,” Spike supplied when it looked as though Wesley couldn’t go on. “Nothin’ wrong with that, mate. You were tryin’ to do the right thing.”

 

“The methods I used weren’t entirely pure, however,” Wesley replied with a bitter smile. “And the loophole had already been found, just not by me. Wolfram and Hart had been spiking Angel’s blood with Connor’s. Properly translated, the prophecy read, ‘the father will devour the son.’”

 

Spike frowned. “For a vamp, ‘s the same thing, mate. You couldn’t have known.”

 

“That’s not what Angel believed.”

 

“So you took the kid? Then what?”

 

“Then I was tricked, my throat was slit, and Angel’s worst enemy took the baby to a hell dimension where he was raised to hate his father.” Wesley’s tone was dry, revealing none of the emotion that Spike could smell on him.

 

Spike blinked. “That would be a blow. So let me guess? Angel tries to kill you while you’re down an’ out, the kid somehow comes back, an’ now they’re playin’ happy families while you’re still on the outside.”

 

Wesley looked up from his drink to stare across the table at his friend. “How did you know?”

 

“I lived in Sunnydale for a few years,” Spike said, shrugging. “That’s commonplace to what we had. Did you know Buffy’s sis is a magical Key, and all memories you have of her are manufactured by a bunch of bloody monks?”

 

Wesley frowned. “No, I mean, I hadn’t realized.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I betrayed Angel, managed to deliver his son into the hands of the man who hated him the most.”

 

“Yeah, you’re scum,” Spike agreed cheerfully. At Wesley’s shocked look, he laughed. “Bugger me, Wesley, you got to remember who you’re talkin’ to here. ‘m a Master Vampire. ‘ve killed hundreds, thousands. ‘ve done a lot worse than that to any number of different people, an’ Angelus was worse yet. You had the best of motives. We didn’t.”

 

Wesley shook his head, ready to refute Spike’s words, but Spike interrupted, continuing on. “Bloody hell, man! Screw ‘em. Screw all of ‘em. Angel’s a right bastard at the best of times. I know. I’m related to the wanker.”

 

“Spike, you don’t understand,” Wesley said. “They were—”

 

“Your family?” Spike asked softly. When the man looked up to meet his eyes, Spike continued. “You think I don’t know what it means to lose somethin’ like that, yeah? Don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? Summer after the Slayer died, I stuck around to take care of her kid sis because I made a promise. And I liked Dawn. But that’s a different story. I fought demons all summer with a bunch of people who didn’t much like me, nor I them. But by the end of those months, I thought we were a team at least, some kind of demon-fightin’ unit.

 

“I babysat Dawn when no one else would. I watched their backs and made sure they didn’t get killed. I did all of that, an’ then I watched them turn their backs on me when Buffy came back. Suddenly I wasn’t good enough anymore. I thought that summer meant somethin’, meant they knew I’d changed anyway. They treated me like garbage, an’ then the Slayer used me worse than any of them.”

 

Spike took a deep breath, realizing that he’d revealed more than he cared to. “I understand. ‘ve gone from bein’ at least a little on the inside, to bein’ used whenever it suited their fancy. I might be an evil, undead thing, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t know what they were doin’.”

 

Wesley swallowed hard. He’d never considered that Spike might actually know how he felt because the vampire had been there in a way. Not that their situations were the same, but he knew. They both knew.

 

“Thing with bein’ black sheep, mate,” Spike said with a smile. “You’ve got to find other black sheep to run with. White ones always want to kick you out.”

 

Wesley gave a bitter little chuckle. “I thought that’s what we all were.”

 

“No,” Spike replied. “Or perhaps they are. But they’re white hats who haven’t realized they’re gray yet, mate. They’re afraid of us, because they haven’t realized they’re just like us yet, yeah? ‘f they don’t throw stones, they’ve got to realize they’re livin’ in a glass house too, an’ it could all come crashin’ down on ‘em.”

 

Wesley smiled wryly, the alcohol and the companionship making him feel much more mellow than he had in a while now. “And Nika? What is she in our world, Spike?”

 

“Nika?” Spike smiled. “Nika’s a saint with true compassion for us sorry bastards. She’s the one who’s justified to throw stones and doesn’t because she sees the heart of a man. Or a vampire. She’s bloody salvation.”

 

Wesley hadn’t thought about it quite that way before, but he wasn’t sure he could disagree. Not that he harbored any illusions that Nika was perfect, but she seemed the sort to always do the right thing because her heart was so tender. She had a sort of innocence that drew one in. Finding her and Spike that night had been salvation of a sort for him. “Quite poetic.”

 

Spike looked discomfited. “Don’t think so. Just plain truth. I don’t do poetry. Don’t even read it.”

 

“Which is why Danika gave you a collection of Romantic poetry for Christmas,” Wesley replied knowingly.

 

The vampire looked up and grinned abruptly, looking boyish. “Yeah. That’s right. Use it for a coaster.” Spike grew serious. “You know that you’re one of the reasons I’m not eating two-legged Happy Meals, right? That’s got to count for something.”

 

Wesley tried to imagine life without Spike, without Nika. Tried and couldn’t at this point. Even if Angel offered him absolution, Wesley wondered if he would take it if it meant leaving Spike and Nika behind. Spike might have the right attitude at this point. Screw them, indeed. “I think it might count for a lot,” he replied, trying to stand and finding himself unsteady on his feet.

 

Spike was there in a moment to offer a supporting arm. “Let’s pour you into a cab, Wesley. Think you might be able to sleep tonight.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike let himself in and found Nika reading on the couch. “Hey there.”

 

“Hey, luv. What are you still doing up?” he asked, coming to sit down next to her.

 

She shrugged. “I was having trouble sleeping so I thought I might read for a while. Did you have any success tonight?”

 

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, we killed the demons, but not before Angel and his crew showed up. Turns out one of his sidekicks had a vision with Wesley an’ me in it, an’ they told him about the demons an’ not us. In short, Angel didn’t know who he was rescuin’.”

 

“Did you need rescuing?” Nika asked, concerned. “Were either of you hurt?”

 

“M’ leg got chewed on a little, but ‘s not bad. Wesley was more shaken up by Angel than the demons.” He watched as Nika got a fond smile on her face. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was developing a crush on the ex-Watcher. All he had to say was it was about time. They were perfect for one another, if only they could see it.

 

“Sounds like Wesley,” Nika commented. “Was he okay?”

 

“Got him drunk after so we could talk about it,” Spike replied. “He’ll be alright.”

 

Nika rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand why it takes so much liquor to loosen your tongues.”

 

“We’re British and reserved,” Spike said cheekily. “Takes a lot of anythin’ to loosen our tongues.”

 

She shook her head, ostensibly exasperated with him, but there was a smile hovering on the corners of her mouth. “We should invite Wesley over more.”

 

“He’s already here all the time,” Spike pointed out.

 

Nika shrugged. “He’s here because he needs to be, not because he thinks we want him to be. It’s a completely different thing.”

 

Spike thought about that and finally nodded. Want and need were two entirely different things. “Invite away.”

 

Nika looked thoughtful. “It’ll give me an excuse to feed him,” she mused. “He’s entirely too thin.” She gave Spike a measuring look. “Of course, so were you when you started living here.”

 

“Regular sleep and some TLC will do a lot for a bloke,” Spike agreed. He reached out and tenderly brushed a piece of hair back from her face. “Gives us both an excuse to look after you too.”

 

“It’s much appreciated,” Nika said with a smile. She leaned up against him, allowing him to pluck the book of poetry from her fingers. They shared similar tastes, and Spike allowed himself to revel in the familiar words as he spoke them aloud, from memory, listening to the sound of Nika’s slow breathing.

 

He was home.


	17. December 2005

The festivities had begun to gather steam in Nika’s house. Over the past three years, from the first gloomy Christmas, to the most recent, the holidays had become a rather special time. With no visions to interrupt them, Wesley and Spike could more or less control the kinds of jobs they took. This year, Dawn and Connor were spending as much time at Nika’s house as they were at the Hyperion, which meant things were a little more crowded than usual.

 

Unlike that first Christmas with just Spike and Nika, both missing loved ones fiercely, there was a large tree in the living room, being decorated with lights and tinsel. Dawn was giggling at Connor, as she’d strewn his hair with the silvery filaments, and he was pretending to be annoyed as he tried to pull it out. Wesley and Spike were trying to maintain a manly distance, although the ex-Watcher frequently stole kisses from their hostess, managing to maneuver her under the mistletoe as often as possible.

 

Moments like these, Spike recognized the utter hominess of Nika’s little place. Each person who was present belonged there in some indefinable sense, whether they’d been there for months or years. It was Nika’s gift, to make people feel welcomed and valued.

 

He only wished he didn’t feel like such a fifth wheel.

 

The doorbell rang just then, and Spike pushed himself up off the couch. “I’ll get it,” he said. No one else responded, too caught up in their respective partners. He sighed. “Right. The soulless vampire might as well not be here,” he mumbled.

 

When he opened the door, Buffy was standing there, looking nervous. “Hey, Spike.”

 

“H’lo,” he replied. Spike had talked to Buffy a few times on the phone in the past few weeks, but they had largely backed off. Their argument had scared both of them to a certain extent; neither one wanted to go back to what their relationship had been in the past.

 

Oddly enough, it had been that night that had touched off the fires of longing in both of them, just as it had been that night that sealed their lips even more completely.

 

The vampire realized they had been standing there for several beats, and he hastily stepped back from the doorway. “Sorry. Come in,” he invited.

 

Buffy stepped inside, grateful that while Spike looked surprised to see her, he wasn’t displeased. “Is Dawn here? I stopped by the dorm, but her roommate said she might—”

 

“Buffy!” Dawn came skidding out of the living room to give her sister a hug. “It’s about time! Come see the tree!” Breathless with delight, Dawn started dragging Buffy into the living room, with Spike ambling behind them.

 

Whatever their positions had been before the doorbell rang, Wesley and Nika were now sitting decorously on the couch, their entwined hands the only sign of public displays of affection. Connor was sprawled on the floor, having removed the tinsel from his hair and gotten it back on the tree. Dawn, who was almost hyper with the thoughts of the holidays and three weeks off school, made the re-introductions at a furious pace, and pointed out exactly what she had done to help.

 

“It’s great, Dawn,” Buffy said sincerely. She hadn’t seen her younger sister this excited about Christmas since before their mother had died. Buffy couldn’t help but catch a little of that spirit herself. She turned to look at Spike, and caught him looking at something above her head.

 

Mistletoe.

 

She glanced over at Dawn, who was looking very pleased with herself, and the two adults on the couch were looking amused. No help there. Buffy looked back at Spike and waited.

 

He moved slowly, the limp hardly noticeable tonight. Buffy couldn’t help but notice both the longing and the wariness in his face. Communicating only with their eyes, Spike leaned down and kissed her.

 

It wasn’t an earth-shattering kiss. In fact, if it had been anybody but Spike, Buffy would have written it off altogether. Except that it was Spike, and the last kiss they had shared had been anything but sweet and soft, and this was all of that. Besides, it _was_ Spike.

 

The kiss lasted a mere breath, and Spike pulled back to look at Buffy expectantly. He half expected disgust, resignation, annoyance, but found nothing of the sort. Instead, the Slayer looked almost—euphoric. As though they’d had the kiss to end all kisses, and he knew that wasn’t true. Personally, his favorite was the one right after Sweet had left. Not only a great kiss, but he had believed at the time that it had changed things between them. Her kissing him was supposed to mean that she had feelings for him.

 

She’d disabused him of that notion pretty rapidly.

 

Now, when Buffy looked up at him, he might as well have been the only person in the room, and she reached up and brushed a stray curl off his forehead. The moment might have stretched out into eternity, until Dawn cleared her throat. “That was disappointing,” she commented acerbically. “You couldn’t have done a more thorough job, Spike? That was a wimpy kiss.”

 

“Dawn!” Buffy admonished, shooting a quelling look at her sister.

 

Spike was right behind her, in both meanings of the phrase. “Bit, you’re treadin’ on thin ice.” He frowned at her menacingly. Somehow Dawn had gotten it into her head that all he and Buffy needed was a push in the right direction, and they’d end up living happily ever after. Spike knew better.

 

“Let’s go out,” Nika said, realizing rapidly that her house wasn’t built to hold six people, especially when there was attempted match-making going on.

 

Wesley and Spike’s eyes met. “Shall we go to Caritas?” Wesley asked mildly.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about what had happened with Angel, but it seemed as though Wesley was in no great hurry to get back in the fold. The other man had exorcised the fear of meeting Angel though, since he didn’t seem intimidated by the thought of running into the vampire. “Yeah, why not?”

 

Dawn grinned. “Great! It’s good Buffy’s here, because now everybody has a partner.”

 

Spike and Buffy looked at each other uncomfortably. “We’re just friends, Dawnie,” Buffy reminded her sister, and herself. She thought she’d played that card convincingly. She didn’t see the others’ knowing looks when Spike put his hand on her back as they walked out the front door, especially when she didn’t bother trying to remove it.

 

~~~~~

 

Caritas was as busy as it normally was on a Thursday night. Most of those present probably didn’t have a clue that Christmas was coming up, since it tended to be a human holiday. Both Buffy and Spike were feeling slightly out of place, since Dawn and Connor had their arms wrapped around one another, and Wesley and Nika were holding hands. Buffy didn’t think she’d mind making contact with the vampire—not after that kiss, certainly—but he had both hands shoved in his pockets, and his shoulders were slightly hunched. The line between his brows told her he was thinking pretty hard about something, and she had to wonder if it was her or something else entirely.

 

Buffy wasn’t quite as self-involved as she’d been to believe he would be thinking of her all the time.

 

There had been a time when “self-involved” would have defined her, however, and she knew that it wasn’t that long ago. Besides having rather badly neglected Dawn, she had completely disregarded Spike’s feelings. She had come back from the dead and had used his unswerving loyalty to make herself feel better. The song he’d sung under Sweet’s influence had reminded her that he had feelings as well, and that had pissed her off. He’d called himself her willing slave, and that was what she’d wanted. She hadn’t wanted to be reminded that he loved her, that being so close to her and knowing what she was doing had hurt him.

 

Maybe, in the end, she’d wanted someone else to hurt as badly as she did, and her friends were off limits. Maybe she’d just been too absorbed in her own pain to care about anyone else’s. Maybe the fact that he was supposed to be an evil vampire had made it okay to use him.

 

In the end, she’d chased him away, and now his world no longer revolved around her. Instead, he, Wesley and Nika had found their own orbits around each other, a complicated dance where no one was the center. The amazing thing was that their world seemed to expand easily to include the others who came into contact with their group.

 

Buffy wondered if it was big enough to include her as well. She wondered if she and Spike could rebuild the shattered remains of their relationship into something they could both live with.

 

Lorne swept up to them as soon as he caught sight of the group looking for a table. “Nika, my little lark, tell me you’re singing tonight.”

 

Nika smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, Lorne.”

 

He put a friendly hand on her arm and drew her slightly to the side. “Please, you have to help me out here. You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with. People have been singing the worst of the 90’s and murdering Barbara Streisand for the past two weeks. If I don’t hear something resembling music soon, I’m going to go nuts.”

 

Nika looked at the green-skinned Host and smiled. “You know I don’t sing karaoke.”

 

“I have a guitar in back all tuned up with your name on it.” Lorne was close to begging at this point.

 

“The same arrangement?”

 

Lorne looked over the group and looked skeptical. “You have a few more in your party than usual, sweetheart.”

 

“Only three of us can drink alcohol,” Nika pointed out reasonably. “And Spike sings one song.”

 

“Wait just a bleedin’ minute,” Spike protested, pushing himself up to where Nika and Lorne were standing. “’m not singin’.”

 

Nika and Lorne ignored him. “If you can get Sweetcheeks to sing, you’re on,” Lorne replied. “But I want at least one from you.”

 

“You’ll get two,” she replied equably. “I’m in the mood tonight.”

 

Lorne gave her a piercing look, and then a beatific smile broke out over his green face. “Good for you, sweetie. You deserve a little happiness. Soon as you’re ready, you just let me know and I’ll clear the stage.”

 

Lorne swept off, and Spike turned Nika to face him. “’m not singin’.”

 

“We have an arrangement,” Nika coaxed. “We sing, we drink free tonight.”

 

“I have the dosh to pay for our drinks,” Spike said stubbornly. “An’ I don’t sing karaoke.”

 

Nika shrugged. “You won’t be singing karaoke. I play, you sing.”

 

Wesley threw himself into the fray. “Angel sang.”

 

“’m not Peaches,” Spike replied rather stiffly.

 

“Badly,” Wesley added, seeming not to notice Spike’s response.

 

Dawn took her turn. “Oh, come on, Spike. It’s not like you don’t have a good voice.”

 

Spike looked at the faces surrounding him, shrugging in defeat. Truth be told, he knew he’d probably have to sing at some point, but he’d wanted to put it off as long as possible. “I don’t have a bloody destiny or a soul,” he finally grumbled. “An’ I don’t soddin’ care if ‘m on the right path or not, so Mr. Green Jeans can just keep his bloody readin’ to himself. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if someone could mention how good I sound to Peaches.”

 

Dawn grinned. “I think I could arrange to let something drop the next time I see Angel.”

 

Spike heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. So what are we singin’, Nika-luv?”

 

As Spike and Nika headed off towards Lorne and the stage, the others went to get a table. Buffy found herself in the unusual position of being alone with Wesley, since Connor and Dawn had moved off towards a smaller table nearby for some alone-time. “So, uh, how have you been?” she asked awkwardly.

 

“Quite well, actually,” he replied, a touch of surprise in his voice, as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “And yourself?”

 

“Good,” Buffy said, feeling a bit surprised herself. “I’ve been good.”

 

There was a pause that wasn’t altogether comfortable. “I hear from Spike that you two make quite a team,” Buffy offered. “Sounds like we’ve both come a long way.”

 

“Indeed,” Wesley replied, his lips twisting up into a pained smile. “I hope you can forgive me for being an insufferable twit.”

 

Buffy grinned at him. “If you can forgive me for being impatient and pretty rude at times.”

 

“I think I could manage that.”

 

~~~~~

 

“So what are we doin’?” Spike asked, resigned to singing in front of a crowd and hoping that Nika would be able to play something he knew that wasn’t so much shite.

 

“‘When A Man Loves a Woman?’” Nika suggested slyly. At Spike’s horrified look, she modified her response. “Just kidding, _cariad_. What about ‘Behind Blue Eyes?’”

 

Spike gave her a disgruntled look. “Very funny.”

 

She shrugged. “I know it, and I figured you did too. I know you listen to the Who.”

 

He grunted and finally shrugged. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

 

Lorne had already brought out the guitar, and Nika ran her fingers over the strings, checking to make sure it was tuned. “This is a nice instrument,” she commented.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “When did you learn how to play, luv? Didn’t know you could.”

 

“Girl’s got to have some secrets,” Nika replied. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah.” Spike followed her up on stage, feeling oddly nervous. He didn’t like baring his soul for anyone—metaphorically speaking, anyway. Spike didn’t mind singing in the car with the radio cranked up when he had the Desoto. He didn’t mind singing in the shower, or to his CD’s when he plugged something hard and heavy in. Sweet’s spell and Lorne’s unique talent, however, ensured that he would be literally singing his heart out. Look how well that had ended the last time.

 

At least he’d be singing an old classic this time, rather than the truth—and he could tell the Host to get stuffed if he tried pulling any of that destiny crap on him. “I’ll follow your lead,” she said softly, striking the beginning chords. Spike took a deep breath and reminded himself that he could get drunk for free after this if he cared to. That had to be worth something.

 

Across the room, from his place on stage, he caught Buffy’s eye, and started to sing.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike’s voice floated across the room, the flavor of it dark and smoky, and Buffy smiled as she recognized the tune. It was perfectly appropriate, really.

 

“_No one knows what it’s like _

_to be the bad man, _

_to be the sad man, _

_behind blue eyes. _

_No one knows what it’s like,_

_to be hated, _

_to be fated, _

_to telling only lies. _

_But my dreams they aren’t as empty, _

_as my conscience seems to be. _

_I spend hours only lonely. _

_My love is vengeance, that’s never free.”_

 

“He does have a good voice,” Wesley commented. “Had you heard him before?”

 

Buffy nodded. The sight of Spike on stage, beginning to lose himself in the music, his rough voice—sent a bolt of desire straight below the belt. It was getting ridiculous, how much she wanted him. What made it more ridiculous were the “don’t touch” vibes that were zinging back and forth between the two of them. Spike had made it pretty obvious that he wasn’t ready for anything but friendship.

 

Buffy forced herself to look away and answer Wesley’s question. “There was this demon that Xander summoned. It cast a spell, made you sing all your deepest thoughts and feelings. Kinda creepy.”

 

Wesley shuddered, not liking the idea of being forced to sing, much less forced to sing of his feelings. Right now it might not be so bad, but it wasn’t that long ago and he would have been singing a dirge. “That doesn’t sound—pleasant.”

 

“It wasn’t,” Buffy replied briefly, and then added thoughtfully. “Spike saved my life.”

 

“He has a habit of doing that,” Wesley agreed.

 

Buffy caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

Wesley looked at her with some surprise, the second verse of the song floating in the background. The crowd was mostly quiet at this point, listening to Spike’s singing and the melancholy chords of Nika’s guitar. “Of course, though I won’t promise to answer.”

 

“How come you and Spike are such good friends? Last I knew, you were pretty suspicious of Angel,” she said. “And—Spike doesn’t have a soul, or the chip anymore.”

 

Wesley gave her a knowing look. “You’re wondering why I can accept him when your friends find it so difficult.” He considered the question. “Part of it is that I had worked with Angel for a while and had at least accepted that certain vampires could change.” Wesley shrugged. “Perhaps it also has something to do with the fact that when I first met him, Spike was living with Nika and was obviously doing nothing that could be considered evil. Your friends had a different first impression, I believe.”

 

Buffy nodded wryly. “Yeah, something like that. But he changed. He stayed with Dawn the summer I was—away.” She looked into Wesley’s blue eyes, not having a clue why she was confessing her thoughts to him rather than one of her friends. Maybe it was because he still wore the mantle of Watcher in her mind, and now he had the experience and the weary look to go along with it. “I’m just wondering why you can accept the changes he’s made and my friends can’t.”

 

“And what you’re going to do when they return and demand your loyalty to them over Spike?” Wesley asked quietly. Despite his disastrous sojourn in Sunnydale, he had a decent handle on the group dynamics of Buffy and her Scoobies. It was true that those on the outside had a clearer picture of such things than those in the know.

 

Wesley finally shook his head. “Only you know the answer to that question, Buffy. I will tell you this, however. Spike has made changes that should have been impossible, but they are real. He might be a vampire, but he has a better grasp on the meaning of loyalty and love than most humans I know. I have been honored to be his friend.” He turned his piercing gaze to her. “I believe you have a chance to make things right between the two of you, or to break the connection completely. I hope for his sake that you choose the first.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “It’s not just Spike I’m afraid of hurting, Wesley,” she admitted. “It’s me.”

 

“The Slayer is asked to sacrifice everything for her calling,” Wesley replied. “But there comes a time, as I have learned, when your own salvation becomes most important. If you fall into the darkness, how can you save anyone else?” He smiled gently. “And it’s not just yourself you must think about, as I understand it. You must do what’s best for your child, as well.”

 

Buffy blushed slightly. “I asked Spike to look after my baby if something happens to me. You and Nika being there was at least part of my decision.”

 

Wesley got a pleased expression on his face that held no little pain. “You know about—”

 

“Connor?” Buffy asked. “I got the full story. Willow tried to end the world though, and we forgave her. I tried to kill my friends. Xander’s pulled more than a couple of stupid stunts. Let’s not even mention Angel.” She smiled at him. “I’ve heard a lot more from Dawn about what a stand-up guy you are, and that’s good enough for me.”

 

The song ended in the background, and Spike jumped off the stage to the applause of those around him. He strode over to their table, a swagger in his step. “Not bad, eh, mate?” he asked Wesley. “When are you goin’ to get up there?”

 

“The day after never,” Wesley replied firmly. “I’ve sung, and I don’t intend to do so again. Besides, Lorne wanted to hear someone who could actually carry a tune. I don’t qualify.”

 

Spike shrugged, in rare good humor after his performance and the applause. “Suit yourself. What ‘bout you, Slayer?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. No way. I’d have to be way too drunk to get up there, and that _can’t_ happen for another six months or so. In fact, let me just say now that it’s not ever gonna happen.”

 

Nika was up on stage re-tuning the guitar. One of the waiters adjusted the microphone so it was at her level where she sat on the stool. “A little tavern song for you,” she said, a sly grin on her face. At the first chords, Spike and Wesley’s eyes widened, and Lorne’s jaw dropped. He’d come over to sit next to Wesley, and he blurted out, “She’s going to sing _that_ song? Nika’s never done that before.”

 

“Done what?” Buffy asked, perplexed. “What’s she singing?”

 

“A bawdy song,” Spike explained as she started singing. It only took one verse for Buffy to realize exactly what had the guys so shocked. The Slayer started looking around for Dawn, because she wasn’t sure her little sister should be listening.

 

Not that the lyrics were terribly explicit, but the song was full of all sorts of sexual innuendo. By the second stanza, Wesley was a deep shade of red, though he had a rather pleased grin on his face. In case anyone had any doubt as to who Nika was singing about, she looked up and sent a saucy wink in his direction. Spike’s grin just kept growing, and even Lorne was laughing in places.

 

The song was about a young woman extolling her lover’s virtues, much as a man might. But what she appreciated had very little to do about the color of his eyes or hair. And it was enthusiastic indeed, which explained both Wesley’s blush and his pleased grin.

 

By the end of the song, Nika had the whole place cracking up, and there were a number of folks, demon and human, calling for an encore when she finished. She smiled enigmatically, not bothering to let anyone know that she’d already promised Lorne one more. “I suppose I can do another, as long as I’m not hogging the stage.” There were whistles and cries that she could go on hogging the stage all night if she liked.

 

Next to Wesley, Lorne smiled. “I haven’t seen her this happy in years. I’ve got to hand it to you, Wes, you’ve been better than chocolate for that girl.”

 

Wesley’s tone was tender as he replied, “No better than she’s been for me.”

 

Lorne patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t think you get it, Cupcake. Even when she was in here with her husband, those last couple months were no picnic for either one of them. Nika wanted a baby, and Danny couldn’t give one to her, so she got down and he started staying away. It’s probably one of the reasons he was killed.”

 

“Did you—” Wesley began.

 

Lorne shook his head. “They had stopped singing long before I could let them know they were on the wrong path, my friend. What I can tell you is that you both deserve a happy ending. Keep up what you’re doing, and you might just be one of the few who gets one.”

 

Up on the stage, Nika was feeling out her fingerings for the next song. “One more then,” she agreed. “This one is for the two people who taught me what it meant to live again. And for the man who made me want to sing.”

 

The audience grew quiet as the faintly melancholy chords started up. The words and melody were reminiscent of a folksong, and Buffy could feel Spike go still beside her as Nika’s clear voice rang out. She didn’t blame him for being entranced; she felt the magic too.

 

_“I thought I’d go up Poughkeepsie,_

_Look out o’er the Hudson, _

_And I’d throw my body down on the river._

_And I’d know no more sorrow, _

_I’d fly like the sparrow,_

_And I’d ride on the backs of the angels tonight._

_I’d take to the sky with all of my might._

_No more drowning in my sorrow, _

_No more drowning in my fright,_

_I’d just ride on the backs of the angels tonight._

_“There are those who know sorrow_

_And those who must borrow_

_And those whose lot in life is sweet._

_Well I’m drunk on self-pity,_

_Scorned all that’s been given me,_

_I would drink from a bottle labeled sure defeat._

_I’d ride on the backs of the angels tonight._

_I’d take to the sky with all of my might._

_No more drowning in my sorrow,_

_No more drowning in my fright,_

_I’d just ride on the backs of the angels tonight._

_“Then the skies, they fell open,_

_And my eyes were opened_

_To a world of hope falling at my feet._

_Now I’ve no more or less than anyone else has_

_What I have is a gift of life I can’t repeat._

_So I go up Poughkeepsie,_

_Look out o’er the Hudson_

_And I cast my worries to the sky._

_Now I still know sorrow,_

_But I can fly like the sparrow_

_‘Cause I ride on the backs of angels tonight._

_I ride on the backs of the angels tonight._

_I take to the sky with all their might._

_No more drowning in my sorrow,_

_No more drowning in my fright,_

_I’ll just ride on the backs of the angels each night.”_

 

Buffy was trying to hold back tears at the end of the song. How many times had she wanted to end it all? She’d resented coming back from the dead, but she’d been offered another chance. Maybe it was an opportunity she hadn’t wanted, but it was one she’d learned to accept. Now she had another opportunity with Spike—he was part of her “world of hope,” and she was suddenly ready to fight the whole damn world to keep it.

 

Her hand sought his under the table, and when she grasped it, Spike looked over at her in surprise. With a feeling of awe, he read the emotions in her eyes, and he reached over to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “No more drowning, Buffy?”

 

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore. Not with you there.”

 

Spike suddenly smiled brightly. “Never thought I’d be glad to be called an angel.”

 

Buffy laughed and leaned into his shoulder. “I never thought I’d call you one.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn and Connor headed back to the Hyperion from Caritas, but Buffy gave Spike a lift home. Nika and Wesley had gone off together soon after she’d finished her last song, saying something about taking a ride. The Slayer didn’t blame the other woman; riding on the back of a motorcycle with a guy like Wesley Wyndam-Pryce would have appealed to her too if she hadn’t had her eye on a certain vampire.

 

She pulled up in front of the house, and they both sat quietly for a few minutes, neither willing for the evening to come to an end. “How long are you goin’ to be in town for, luv?” Spike finally asked. He needed to break the silence before he gave into the little voice in his head that was telling him to shag Buffy silly in the back seat. Been there, done that—he wasn’t going down that road again. Despite the Slayer’s warmth towards him, he was still afraid that she would end up changing her mind.

 

“Just a couple of days,” Buffy said, a note of regret in her voice. “Xander should be getting back into town on Sunday, and Giles and Willow will be back the day after.”

 

“That’s good,” he said, trying not to choke too hard on the words. Buffy’s friends would be around a lot more after this, which he couldn’t help but think meant nothing good for him. With their constant presence in her life, Buffy wouldn’t be quite so pleased to have him around. She wouldn’t need him for anything any more.

 

She sighed. Buffy wished that her friends being back was good, but she’d gotten used to their absence, used to being able to make her decisions without worrying about what they would think. “Yeah.” She glanced over at Spike and saw in the light from the streetlamp that he didn’t look happy. “I wish I could stay in L.A. for Christmas,” she confessed.

Spike looked surprised, then pleased. “Wish you could too, pet. Nika puts out quite a spread, an’ her grandmother’s comin’ into town. From what I’ve heard, she’s a decent sort.”

“Why don’t you come to Sunnydale for New Year’s?” Buffy asked impulsively.

 

Spike shook his head. “Not so sure that’s such a good idea. Your friends—”

 

“Will deal,” Buffy said firmly. “You’re my friend too, Spike, if for no other reason than your coming up to sign those papers with me.”

 

“Lots more reasons than that,” he murmured. He shook his head. “Dunno, Buffy. You shouldn’t have to be fightin’ with your friends over the holidays. Maybe you could get away, come back down to L.A. for a few days.”

 

“And I will,” she replied. “But I’d like you to come up.”

 

Spike faced her, noting the determination in her gaze. “What are you tryin’ to prove?”

 

“That whatever happens between us, it’s going to be different this time.” Buffy set her chin, and Spike recognized her “don’t say no to me” face. “I don’t know what you want, Spike. Heck, I don’t even know what I want. But I do know I don’t want to lose track of you again.”

 

He smiled slightly. “So I’d be a welcome guest, then?”

 

“You’ll always be welcome in my house.”

 

It was the truth in her eyes that decided him. “Right then. You just let me know when and where, Slayer, and I’ll be there.”

 

It was more than an agreement. It was a promise.


	18. December 2005

“Are you sure I shouldn’t wait for you outside?” Wesley asked. “I could pull the car around. It would make it easier to load the luggage.”

 

Nika smiled wryly. “Then what manly man would we have to carry the luggage?” she asked. “Wesley, _nain_ is going to love you.”

 

Wesley wasn’t nearly so certain. “Danika, I’ve never met her before, and she’s your only family.”

 

Nika shook her head, threading her hand through his elbow and looking up at him. “_Cariad_, she’s going to love you because you make me happy. And you and Spike are also my family.”

 

At the pain that swept across his face, Nika gave his arm a little shake. “No. None of that. I love you. Nothing will ever change that. It’s Christmas. Be happy.”

 

A reluctant smile crept across his face. “It’s a bit hard to be gloomy around you.”

 

“So?” Nika grinned at him, mischief in her eyes. “I’m happy. With you. It’s a win-win scenario for both of us.”

 

Wesley looked hesitant, and then asked, “Do you want me to stay at my apartment this Christmas Eve? I wasn’t sure where—”

 

“_Nain_ is taking Spike’s bedroom, Spike is sleeping on the fold-out bed, and you will be sleeping with me,” she replied firmly.

 

Wesley’s eyes widened. They hadn’t quite consummated their relationship yet, though they’d come as close as two people could and retain most of their clothing. While they hadn’t discussed it, Wesley hadn’t any desire to rush things. In fact, he was rather enjoying the suspense. It was like waiting until Christmas morning to unwrap your presents. “Nika, your grandmother—”

 

Nika’s grin was nothing short of smug. “Trust me, _Nain_ isn’t the old prune you might think. Besides, us sleeping together means we’re working on making babies, and that will make her happy.” She caught the slightly panicked look on Wesley’s face and sighed. “Not that we’re trying right now, Wesley.”

 

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to discuss their future. The flight would be arriving any minute now. Of course, he wasn’t sure when they’d be alone again. “Danika—”

 

When he stopped, she leaned into him. “Tell me, Wesley. You know what I want; I’ve made it clear enough. But you haven’t told me anything about what you want yet.”

 

“I want to make you happy,” he replied honestly. Wesley reached out to touch her cheek. “We haven’t talked, though, and I’m not sure I can give you what you want.”

 

“Why?” she asked. The airport was bustling all around them, the sights and sounds of the holiday rush present everywhere. It might as well have been just the two of them in their own little world, even though they were both unaware of the picture they made. The tall, thin man with his worn face, the willowy woman looking up—more than one traveler passed them with a curious gaze, wondering what it was that had lined their faces so. “Wesley, if this is about your father, or your fear of becoming a father, we can talk about it. If you don’t want—”

 

“No, I do,” he insisted quickly. “But—now isn’t the time to talk about this.” Wesley smiled softly. “I’d just like to have you to myself for a while.”

 

Nika returned his smile. “That’s good, because I want you to myself as well.” She pulled his head down for a kiss.

 

Nika rather liked Wesley’s kisses. He knew how to make them last. In fact, just recently they had spent almost an entire evening simply making out—something she didn’t think either one of them had done since they were teenagers. She could still remember those days when she and Danny did nothing but kiss for fear of her _nain_’s wrath, and the tentative explorations that accompanied those hours.

 

Her hands and Wesley’s were more experienced than in those early days, their touches more lingering. It was as though they both understood that there would only be one first time between the two of them, and they wanted to make it last. They were building a slow foundation. Nika had no doubt that when the passion finally overcame them, it would be spectacular.

 

She was definitely looking forward to it.

 

“Danika!” The voice startled her out of Wesley’s embrace, and she looked through the crowded airport to see her _nain_ striding determinedly forward. For a small woman, she had an unmistakable presence that sent people scurrying out of her way. When she spoke, it was in Welsh, and Nika found herself suddenly homesick.

 

The older woman pulled her into a warm embrace, speaking quickly the whole time. “You look good—splendid.” She glanced past Nika’s shoulder at Wesley, who was standing there awkwardly. “I would think he might have something to do with that. He’s a fine one. If I were twenty years younger, I’d be giving you a run for your money, my girl.”

 

Nika laughed, remembering how much fun her grandmother could be. Pulling back, she said in English, “_Nain_, this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley, this is Enid Rhys.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Wesley said in flawless Welsh, holding out his hand. Enid bypassed the hand and pulled him in for a hug. Nika could see the astonishment on his face.

 

Enid drew back to get a better look at him, and she nodded in satisfaction. He was tall, and whipcord thin, but with a quiet strength that was obvious in his eyes and the set of his mouth. When her granddaughter had first mentioned him, she had suspected something between them, and had wondered who it was that had brought the hint of joy back into Nika’s letters. “So it’s an Englishman who can speak Welsh, is it?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye. “That’s a rare one.”

 

Wesley wasn’t sure how to reply to that, but Nika rescued him. “_Nain_, don’t tease the man. He’s nervous enough about meeting you as it is.”

 

Enid smiled. “Forgive me. I won’t tease. But where is this Spike you’ve told me so much about?”

 

“We weren’t sure we could get a parking space in the covered garage,” Nika explained. “He should be home when we get there.”

 

Enid nodded. “_Da_. I’m looking forward to meeting this vampire.” She took the arm that Wesley gallantly held out and gave him an approving look. “I’m sure it shall prove an interesting trip.”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley wasn’t quite sure what to make of Enid. He liked her, of course. After only a short time in her company it became obvious why Danika had turned out the way she had, though he couldn’t have said which one reminded him more of the other.

 

 

It wasn’t so much who she was, as what she represented. If the truth were to be told, Wesley was never quite sure what to make of authority figures, especially of parents or grandparents. While he thought of his mother with fondness, she had always been something of a phantom on the edges of his world—ineffectual, and not attached to anything real in his life. He only remembered one grandmother, and that was from his distant childhood, before he’d been old enough for his father to take an interest in him.

 

Fred’s parents were nice; he remembered that much. They were like the parents one saw on those sitcoms, the kind he’d always wished for and never had. Enid, despite her rather unconventional worldview, struck him as the kind of grandmother anyone might want. She started fussing as soon as she walked through the front door of the house, informing Nika that she was planning on cooking dinner, and not taking no for an answer. “I haven’t been able to cook for company in ages,” she said. “And that lad of yours could use some feeding.”

 

“I’ve tried,” Nika responded good-naturedly. “He just won’t keep on any weight.”

 

Wesley wondered if he should be insulted, but decided to let it go. It wasn’t as if they meant it as a slight, and Nika was right. She’d been trying to get him to gain a few pounds for months, and he still hadn’t put on any weight. He supposed you could accredit the hazards of demon-fighting; he burned off more calories than he consumed most days.

 

“Nika’s grandmum get here alright?” Spike asked, coming out of the bathroom. Wesley could smell the fumes of cleaning fluid, and smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever quite get used to seeing Spike so completely domesticated, even up to offering his room and giving it a good cleaning. He saw Spike’s fingers twitch, and he knew the vampire was craving a cigarette. With a smile, Wesley realized the vampire was as nervous as he’d been about meeting the older woman.

 

“She arrived on time.” Wesley stowed the luggage in the bedroom. “You coming upstairs?”

 

Spike hesitated, running his hand through already disheveled hair. “’m never this nervous,” he muttered.

 

“It’s Nika’s grandmother,” Wesley said, as though that explained everything. “You might as well get it over with, you know. It’s not like you can avoid her for the duration of her stay.”

 

Spike shrugged his agreement and preceded Wesley up the stairs. From behind, the ex-Watcher took a moment to notice that Spike was dressed in trousers and a button-down shirt, something a little more formal than his usual clothing. He bit back a comment as he remembered his own struggle trying to figure out what to wear.

 

Wesley could both hear and feel the moment’s stillness as Spike entered the kitchen. He shut the door gently behind him and then watched the byplay between Enid and Spike. The older woman was regarding him with a steady gaze that would have felled a weaker creature than the vampire. “I hear you saved Nika’s life.”

 

Spike shrugged, shuffling his feet a bit shyly. It was odd, but the vampire seemed so human in that moment. He was—quite suddenly—a diffident young man meeting a close friend’s relative. And not at all sure of his welcome. “Not as such,” he said when it seemed a response was required. “No more’n she’s done for me.”

 

The vampire seemed to dredge up his manners from somewhere, and he held out his hand for her to shake. Enid looked at him for a moment, and then smiled, pulling the vampire into a hug much as she’d done to Wesley. “You think Danika hasn’t told me the whole story, William?” she asked. “It wasn’t quite the wake-up call I would have wanted for her, but it did the trick.”

 

After that, the tension completely dissolved. In fact, after an excellent dinner, Spike went out to the living room with Enid. They were sharing a bottle of good scotch with a great deal of camaraderie, and Wesley peeked out there to see how they were getting on. Spike was entertaining the older woman with some cock-and-bull story of rollicking adventure, and had obviously turned the charm on full blast.

 

Wesley shook his head, half in admiration, half in exasperation. Spike and the ladies. “What are you thinking of?” Nika asked, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

 

“Just watching Spike and his way with the ladies,” Wesley replied, feeling her shake against him as she chuckled.

 

“He’d better watch out. _Nain_’s got a bit of a reputation with the men herself. When I was 16, there were at least three gentlemen out to catch her heart,” Nika said.

 

“And did any of them manage?” Wesley asked.

 

“No, but I learned a bit about flirtation from her.” He could feel her hesitate, the hitch in her breath, before she asked her question. “Wesley, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

 

He turned in her embrace to face her. “No, sweetheart. What gave you that idea?”

 

“I just—” When she paused again, Wesley took her hand and drew her back into the kitchen, well away from the others. “I’ve just assumed that you wanted the same things I did, _cariad_. I don’t want to be selfish, or force you to do something you don’t want.”

 

There was a spark of uncertainty in her eyes, something he’d never expected of her. Nika seemed to carry such a strength, such a dignity, that he had forgotten she had fears and weaknesses just as any other woman had. “I told you, darling. I want you to be happy.”

 

“If you don’t want children—” she began. When Wesley looked as though he were about to interrupt, she continued. “I know it’s too early to even be talking about this, Wesley. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” he commanded gently, tracing the line of her jaw with his hand. He had known this woman for two years now, almost three, and he knew there was nothing temporary about their relationship. “You are not the kind of woman a man engages lightly, Danika. I did know what I was getting into.”

 

“But—”

 

“I want you to be happy,” he said softly. “And I know how much you desire children. I’m not sure why you think I would make any kind of father, but I’m willing to try for your sake.”

 

Nika shook her head. “I want you to try for yours, _cariad annwyl_.” She sighed. “If I’m not the kind of woman a man engages lightly, then what kind of woman am I?”

 

“The kind he turns his whole world upside down for, and is grateful for the honor.” Wesley’s eyes—tonight a darker blue than usual—told her he spoke the truth. She felt tears sting her eyes. She didn’t want him to change; Nika happened to like Wesley just the way he was. But still…

 

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she replied, laying her head down on his chest. “And I think you will make a wonderful father. I just—can we talk about when, sometime? It’s—you know…”

 

“You waited until you felt as though you’d never have the opportunity,” Wesley said quietly. He understood people better than he let on at times. He knew that her husband’s insistence on waiting to have a child had hurt her somehow, especially after his death, when she thought the chance lost to her. To ask her to wait too long again would be unfair, especially as both of them were no longer quite so young. “A year? Can you give me a year?”

 

She pulled away to look in his face. “You mean it? You’d want—”

 

“We could get married in a year,” he suggested recklessly. After all, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Then we could start trying.” Wesley realized he’d just proposed marriage, and it wasn’t nearly as romantic as he would have liked. And it was fast. Too fast? He searched her face for the answer.

 

The wheels were turning in Nika’s head, and she spoke as though she’d read his mind. “We could get married next Christmas time. We’d have been together for a year, so it wouldn’t be that fast. Though,” she added, “we’ve known each other for quite a while, so it’s not like we’re strangers.”

 

“No,” Wesley agreed. “Not strangers. Do we tell anyone?”

 

“Tell anyone what?” Spike asked from the doorway, Enid close behind him. The two of them had identical expressions of intense curiosity, and Wesley despaired of keeping their plans a secret, even if he’d wanted to.

 

He and Nika exchanged looks. “We were talking about getting married next winter,” Nika finally said matter-of-factly.

 

“It was a bit spur of the moment,” Wesley admitted.

 

Enid gave a satisfied little nod. “Yes, well, the truth will come out at those times.” She grabbed Wesley’s arm and pulled him out into the living room. “This calls for more Scotch,” she stated. “And you’re going to tell me all about yourself.”

 

Spike looked at Nika with a little smirk on his lips. “Weddin’ bells? Already?”

 

“It’s not like we don’t know what we’re doing,” she said, feeling slightly irritated with that look on his face, and it was rare that she got angry with Spike.

 

“’course you know what you’re doin’.” He moved closer and pulled her into a hug. Whatever sexual tension there had been in their relationship had long dissolved under the weight of a relationship almost fraternal in nature. “Happy for you, Nika-luv. I am.”

 

“Now if you and Buffy could just pull your shit together, everyone would be happy,” she teased, feeling him tense then relax in a resigned chuckle.

 

“Prob’ly not gonna happen, pet,” he replied. “Buffy an’ I, we’ve got years of history between us, an’ most of it isn’t good. Don’t reckon we’ll ever get it sorted.”

 

Nika looked up at him. “That wasn’t the girl I saw here a few days ago, Spike. Speaking as a woman, she wasn’t looking at you as an old friend.”

 

Spike shook his head. “Nothin’ good lies down that road.”

 

“That’s what I might have said about Wesley and me,” Nika reminded him. “We take scary chances sometimes, Spike. Sometimes the risks are so bad we think the fear might crush us. But what if the pay-off is worth it?”

 

Longing flashed across Spike’s face, but in the next instant he looked resolute again. “That’s as it might be, but ‘m not leavin’ L.A.,” he insisted. “My family is here.”

 

“Then I hope for both your sakes that Buffy realizes her family is here too,” Nika said softly. Spike shook his head and dropped a kiss on her forehead before following her out into the living room. He wasn’t sure he could afford that kind of hope. It seemed he’d gone bankrupt a long time ago.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous while waiting for Giles and Willow’s flight to come in. It wasn’t so much seeing them again for the first time since discovering her pregnancy. It had everything to do with the fact that Xander had gotten back into town the previous day, and Buffy had wanted to wait on everyone’s arrival to reveal Spike’s re-entry into her life. If she was going to be forced to defend her actions, she only wanted to do it once.

 

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. There was always the possibility that her friends would say, “Buffy, we trust you to make the right choices. You should do what makes you happy.”

 

Yeah, right.

 

She might be able to believe it if it weren’t for her friends’ reactions to her pregnancy. The questions, the implications, the silences…it all added up to the idea that they weren’t at all surprised that Buffy had once again screwed up her life by her choice of boyfriends.

 

Buffy laughed. And if she’d kept Spike around, she wouldn’t have had to worry about getting pregnant in the first place.

 

With that thought, she put one hand protectively over her abdomen. She might not have wanted to have a child, but she wanted _this_ child. It was hers. And if one more person suggested she’d be better off without the baby, Buffy wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences.

 

Catching sight of her Watcher and the witch through the holiday crowds, Buffy stood on tiptoe and waved. Dawn had offered to come with her, and Buffy probably could have used her sister’s height, but this was going to be a private meeting, with just the Scooby core. Joy.

 

Xander came to stand next to her. He’d gone off to use the facilities, and came back just in time to catch sight of the travelers. “Willow!” he called, rushing over and catching her up in a bear hug. “Willow! You’re back!”

 

“Looks like,” she agreed with a goofy grin. Buffy thought the red-head looked more stable, more centered than she had before. There was an air of maturity around her, and Buffy wondered what her friend had been through to bring that about. From personal experience, she figured it was probably painful.

 

“Buffy, you look well,” Giles said, pulling her into a hug of his own. Buffy returned the hug gratefully, trying to quell the feeling of being a prodigal daughter, the one who gets knocked up by a major loser and then dumped.

 

She managed a smile. “Thanks. I’m good.” She turned to hug Willow as Xander and Giles shook hands.

 

“We’ll talk later,” Willow whispered in her ear before pulling away. Buffy wondered how much Willow knew, how much she was aware of.

 

“So, are you guys hungry?” Buffy asked cheerfully. “Because I thought we might go out for lunch, if that’s okay.”

 

~~~~~

 

It was just like old times for a while. They talked about what was going on in their lives, about shared memories and old friends, new acquaintances and events. Buffy was well aware that she wasn’t contributing nearly as much as she usually did to the conversation.

 

“So, Buffy,” Giles began, turning to look at her. “What’s been going on?”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. She’d promised. She’d promised Spike that things wouldn’t change between them just because the gang was back in town. She’d told Dawn the same thing. They’d had a great sister-talk about all kinds of things: sex, love, and the difference between the two, the nature of vampires and why Spike was different, Connor and his better qualities. What came out of their conversation was a renewed understanding of each other and a strengthened determination not to let their bond fray again.

 

What had also come out of that time together was the truth of what had happened in Buffy and Spike’s relationship—if you could call it that—and as much of the truth as Buffy herself knew about her present feelings for the vampire. Dawn had also confessed that she’d hated her sister for a long while after Spike had left. “He was my friend,” Dawn said simply. “Him leaving was at least part of the reason I made that wish—you know, the birthday party that wouldn’t end.”

 

In the end, Dawn had pledged her unequivocal support and reminded Buffy of her own strength. “You’re the Slayer, Buffy. They might not have liked it, but everybody dealt with you and Angel. They dealt with Riley and him being in the Initiative. In my mind, at least, Spike’s got a better grip on morality now than either of them ever did.”

 

Really, it didn’t matter about Riley or Angel. Or anyone else, when you got right down to it. This was about—and between—her and Spike. Buffy had sworn to herself that this time she was going to ride out their relationship to the bitter end, instead of chasing Spike away out of fear.

 

Of course, she was hoping the end would be anything but bitter.

 

“Not much,” she replied, deliberately keeping things light for as long as possible. “Just the usual. Work, fight demons, sleep, more work.”

 

“And how is that going for you?” Xander asked, trying to make a joke out of the matter. “Now that you’re eating for two.”

 

Several eyebrows went up around the table at Xander’s rather tasteless comment. “I’m fine. I mean, there’s a little bit of morning sickness, but other than that it’s good. I signed the papers the other day, so Peter is well and truly out of the picture.”

 

“It’s probably for the best, Buffy,” Willow said. “He was a jerk, and this way you’ll be able to make your own decisions and choices about the baby without having to worry about getting his input. I mean, it _could_ be better, if you want to look at it that way. You know, looking at the brighter side of things.”

 

Buffy smiled, thankful for Willow’s encouragement, but she was wondering just how supportive Willow was going to be when she revealed who was coming for New Year’s. “Thanks, Will. I think it was the right thing to do.”

 

Giles put his anger at Buffy’s ex-boyfriend aside, and turned to look at Buffy with concern. “I think I have some good news that might help out your future situation, Buffy.”

 

“That’s good,” Buffy replied, courage faltering. She knew if she didn’t get this out soon, there would be no big reveal. Or, there would, but it would be a couple weeks away at New Year’s. She had a feeling that it wouldn’t go over well. “There’s actually something else.”

 

“Something else?” Xander asked, jokingly. “Wait, don’t tell me. Peter was actually a demon, and now you’re having quadruplets”

 

Buffy smiled tightly, almost wishing that were it. Then, she could blame everything on Peter. “It’s about Spike. I found out he’s in L.A.”

 

“He got the chip out, didn’t he?” Xander asked, horror written all over his expressive face. “Did Angel let you know? Is he going to come after you now?”

 

No one knew the truth. Buffy hadn’t seen the need to fill them in on the details after Spike had left town, and as time passed, there wasn’t much point. Spike was gone, and everybody except for Dawn either was happy or relieved or indifferent. Giles knew they’d slept together, since she’d had the “spill all the beans” talk with him when he’d come to help stop Willow from ending the world. Other than that, no one else had a clue.

“Are you guys dating?” Willow asked calmly, as though the thought didn’t bother her a bit.

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Huh? No! I mean, no, we’re not. Though he did come down to help me with Peter, and I had dinner with him. He’s happy in L.A.” Hoping it would placate Giles, she added, “Spike is working with Wesley now. They’re, like, demon-fighting partners or something like that.”

 

“Spike and Wesley?” Giles asked, sounding incredulous. “I thought Wesley was working with Angel.”

 

Buffy was surprised that communications had broken down so completely between L.A. and London. “He was working with Angel,” Buffy said. “They had a falling out, and now he’s working with Spike. Spike and Wesley are actually getting paid to do the same kinds of things I do for free.”

 

“But Spike doesn’t have the chip out?” Xander asked. “He’s got a soul now, or something, right?”

 

“Why would he have a soul, Xander?” Buffy replied, puzzled.

 

Xander looked at her as though she’d just said something really stupid. “Because he’s fighting demons.”

 

“Spike is fighting demons because he likes to,” Buffy replied. “Working with Wesley is the excuse he uses. And the chip is gone.”

 

There was a long silence. “Forgive me, Buffy,” Giles said stiffly, not sounding sorry at all, “but how do you know that Spike isn’t hunting again? You haven’t seen him for quite some time. He might be lulling you into a false sense of complacency—”

 

“Before he kills me?” Buffy asked with a raised eyebrow. Up to this point, no one had raised any objections that she hadn’t expected. “First of all, Spike got the chip out three years ago, right after he left, and he’s been corresponding with Dawn the entire time. Second, Spike wasn’t looking for me, I asked Dawn how to find him. Third, he’s living in the basement of a house with a human as his landlord.”

 

They seemed to be fairly cogent points, as Giles sat back in his chair looking thoughtful. Willow’s expression didn’t change, and Buffy was terribly curious as to what her friend was thinking. Xander, as always, didn’t keep her in the dark. “You aren’t going to tell us he’s moving back to Sunnydale, are you?” he demanded. “He’s not going to take up where he left off with that sick obsession, is he?”

 

“Spike isn’t moving back to Sunnydale,” Buffy replied, hanging on to the shreds of her patience. “Like I said, he’s happy in L.A. I did invite him up for New Year’s, though.”

 

Xander looked as though he might have protested, but instead let out a yelp which was probably someone’s foot connecting with his shin under the table. “Well, I think it will be good to see Spike again,” Willow said, sounding determinedly cheerful. “Kind of like old times.”

 

Xander muttered something unintelligible, and Giles added his own thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind having a talk with Spike,” Giles said. “If what you’ve said is true, it would be quite a remarkable transformation—that Spike could go back to feeding on humans but would choose not to.”

 

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. If Giles was into his research mode, then he wasn’t going to give her too hard of a time about Spike. At least, not right now while Spike posed no threat to her, and she wasn’t showing a romantic interest. Xander was going to prove difficult, but that wasn’t anything new. He’d always resented her boyfriends, human or vampire, even if he’d come to accept and like Riley after a while.

 

“Then you guys aren’t going to make a big fuss when he’s here?” Buffy asked. “Because he promised Dawn he’d give Connor a ride up.”

 

“No fuss, Buffy,” Willow promised. “Like I said, it’ll be just like old times.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles had opted to stay in a hotel for the duration of his visit, and Xander went back to his apartment for the night. So Willow, Dawn and Buffy pulled out the ice cream, put on their pajamas, and settled down to catch up on the gossip.

 

“So, Buffy,” Willow started out. “What’s going on between you and Spike?”

 

“Why would anything be going on?” Buffy asked defensively. “There’s nothing going on.”

 

Willow and Dawn exchanged glances. “You asked him to come with you to sign those papers,” the witch pointed out. “That has to mean something.”

 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Buffy said, then sighed. “Okay, so it means something. But, honestly, I don’t know _what_ it means. I have no clue where we’re going with things, except that Spike’s told me about three times now that he isn’t coming back to Sunnydale. I’m not sure where that leaves us, other than just friends.”

 

“Do you still have a thing for him?” Willow asked knowingly, smiling when Buffy stared at her in disbelief.

 

“How—”

 

Willow shook her head. “Buffy, after Spike left, you threw yourself into that relationship with Richard, then there was Steve, and after that it was Peter. It was like you were trying to prove something. I know I wasn’t Miss Supportive-Friend, but I noticed that at least.”

 

Slowly, Buffy explained exactly what had happened to lead up to Spike’s departure. She hadn’t even told Giles about that night in the alley, though Dawn knew because she’d seen Spike afterward. Buffy had told her Watcher that they’d had a fight and Spike left; she hadn’t said anything about beating him to a bloody pulp. “That’s the thing, Willow,” Buffy said slowly. “Spike has been great, sweet even, but he hasn’t said anything about forgiving me, even though I’ve apologized.”

 

Dawn hesitated, and then said slowly, “I really think he still has feelings for you, Buffy.”

 

“What good does that do either one of us?” Buffy demanded, sounding dangerously close to tears. “So what if we have feelings for each other? We live two different places, I’m about to be a mother, and Spike has a successful business with Wesley of all people.”

 

A flicker of sadness crossed Willow’s face, and she said quietly, “Love isn’t something to just let go of, Buffy. Even if it seems impossible, you have to fight for it.” Willow reached over and grabbed her hand. “Forget about Xander, and forget about everyone else. If Spike is the guy that’s going to make you happy, then you need to do whatever it takes.”

 

“When did you get so smart?” Buffy asked, taking another bite of Chunky Monkey.

 

Willow shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot from the coven this past couple months. There were some rituals—tests, really—that I had to go through to confirm my place. The point is to make you more yourself, sort of affirm your power with your personality.”

 

“Wow,” Dawn murmured. “That sounds—painful.”

 

“It was,” Willow agreed. “In fact, you could say that it sucked, but it was important that I do it. The coven thinks I’m ready to start my own group here, to watch over the Hellmouth. So I’m going to be Sunnydale High computer sciences teacher by day, and witch by night. In any case, I have a little different view on things. Spike’s choices and his actions mean more than what he is, Buffy. I get that now.”

 

“Thanks, Will.” She reached over and gave her friend a hug. “And I’m glad you’re going to be around more. It’ll be nice to have you close again. Was that part of what Giles wanted to talk to me about? You helping to watch over the Hellmouth?” They hadn’t gotten the chance to sit down and talk details. Her Watcher had been jet-lagged, and Buffy was willing to wait.

 

“Part of it,” Willow affirmed. “I’ll let him tell you the rest.” She turned to Dawn. “So, Dawnie, tell me about Connor. Is he really Angel’s son?”


	19. December/January 2005

**Part IV: Realizations**

 

**“Changes come/Turn my world around/I have my father’s hand/I have my mother’s tongue/I look for redemption in everyone/I wanna wear your ring/I have a song to sing/It ain’t over babe/In fact it’s just begun/Changes come/Turn my world around/Changes come/Bring the whole thing down/I wanna have our baby/Somedays I think that maybe/ This ol’ world’s too f---ed up for any first born son/There is all this untouched beauty/The light, the dark both running through me/Is there still redemption for anyone?...” ~Over the Rhine, “Changes Come”**

**Chapter 19: December/January 2005**

 

Wesley sat out on Nika’s front steps, cup of coffee in hand, waiting for the sun to rise. He had been awake for hours now, holding Nika and waiting until it felt late enough to get out of bed.

 

It had been a mistake of course—calling his parents on Christmas Eve. He’d thought to get the obligatory semi-annual call out of the way. If it was over and done with, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about not having done it sooner. Wesley had no desire to dampen the holiday cheer with the inevitable gloom speaking with his father invariably left.

 

Conversations with his father always left a bad taste in his mouth, however, and last night was no exception. He’d returned to Nika’s house, after having retrieved an overnight bag and completing his familial duties. Wesley thought he’d hidden his melancholy from the others well, and perhaps he had. Spike and Enid hadn’t seemed to notice that he was out of sorts, although it was always hard to tell what Spike noticed, as he didn’t always comment on it. He smiled, and managed to make small talk, but otherwise stayed to himself, nursing fresh wounds.

 

Eventually the vampire and the older woman retreated to the basement, leaving him alone with Nika. “What happened?”

 

There was no preamble, and so she’d managed to startle the truth out of him. “I spoke with my father this evening.”

 

Nika sighed. “Oh, Wesley.” She pulled him to his feet. “Come on. I think we should go to bed.”

 

He allowed her to lead him into her bedroom, feeling a sudden burst of rage at his father for managing to bollocks up this night that should have been perfect. Yes, he had made the decision to call, but would it kill the man to acknowledge that his son wasn’t a complete screw-up?

 

Nika seemed to be reading his thoughts. “I _am_ going to put a hex on that man,” she said fiercely. “Every time you talk to him it’s like this.”

 

“Like what?” he asked dully.

 

She hissed in frustration. “Like this. You get so—depressed, I guess.”

 

Wesley shook his head, wanting to deny her words, but they were true to a certain extent. His father did have the unique capacity to reduce him to a shaky adolescent at the best of times. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Nika didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she pushed him down on the bed, unlacing his shoes for him. “Nika, you don’t—”

 

“Let me make love to you tonight, Wesley,” she said, interrupting him. “Let me show you what you are.”

 

So he’d let her. With gentle hands Nika had undressed him, removing his sweater and the t-shirt he wore under it, staring in frank admiration at his chest. The hunger in her eyes had stirred him enough so that he’d begun to respond, to return the favor.

 

They had undressed one another, feeling no hurry. There was no urgency in their movements. Then again, their relationship had never been based on a burning passion, though that was a part of it. Instead, it was based upon a solid friendship and a love that ran so deep there was no bottom. They loved in a way that only the broken can.

 

She spoke to him as they made love, her hands never at rest. Sometimes in Welsh, sometimes in English, she told him how wonderful he was, how beautiful, how important. Nika promised him that they would have a life together, that it would be everything such things were meant to be.

 

Nika managed to salve his wounded psyche and make him feel like a giant among men—not a small feat.

 

Which was why this morning, Christmas morning, he was out on her front stoop wondering what on earth he’d ever done to deserve her.

 

Wesley wasn’t fool enough to think of pushing her away for her own good, of course. He was also too selfish to willingly give up one of the few wholly good and pure things he’d ever had. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder why on earth a woman such as Nika would want a man whose belt was notched with failures.

 

“_Bore da_, Wesley,” Enid said from behind him. He turned to see her shutting the front door silently, holding a cup of coffee in her hand.

 

“_Bore da_, Enid,” he replied evenly, carefully, not wanting to allow any of his thoughts to color his words. His father would tell him he was being hopelessly melodramatic, and Wesley thought his father might just be right in this instance.

 

Enid’s sharp eyes, much like Nika’s, seemed to look right down into his soul. “While this is a beautiful morning, one might wonder why an active young man such as yourself is not unwrapping his Christmas presents this morning.”

 

The double meaning in her words was obvious, and Wesley wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He certainly didn’t expect double entendre from a grandmother. “She’s sleeping.”

 

“Ah, I see,” she replied, a twinkle in her eyes. “And you do not know quite yet how she prefers waking up: in her lover’s arms, or in a cold bed.”

Irritation flashed across Wesley’s face at her needling before he could stop it. “I’ve been awake for a while.”

 

Enid nodded in what seemed to be satisfaction, whether because he hadn’t risen to her bait or for some other reason, he couldn’t tell. She sat down carefully on the step and patted the space beside her. “Sit.”

 

Though her tone was gentle, Wesley knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and so he sat obediently. “You never met Danny did you?”

 

Wesley had known this was coming. By unspoken agreement, Nika rarely talked about her dead husband, after that first time they’d spoken of him. Others hadn’t had so many qualms, however. He had met a few of their friends over the course of knowing Nika, and they had all told him how wonderful Danny had been, what a beautiful couple they had made. The implication being that he was nowhere near as wonderful, nor should he hope to compete. Lorne had been the first to reveal that not all had been perfect between them, but he couldn’t hope for the same from Enid. He didn’t dare hope for the same.

 

“No, I never did. I believe he was killed about a year before we met.”

 

Enid nodded. “You would not have liked him.”

 

A pair of startled blue eyes swung around to stare at her sharply. “What—”

 

She smiled, pleased to have shocked the man out of his state of icy isolation. Nika had told her Wesley had the nasty habit of folding in on himself, and she’d seen it for herself the previous night. When she’d asked Spike about it later, after they’d both gone downstairs, he’d looked thoughtful and concerned. “Dunno what’s up,” he had admitted. “If I had to guess, it was the annual call to the old pater, though. Wesley’s sense of duty won’t let him write the old bastard off, even though he should.”

 

Well, Nika had told her about Wesley’s past, enough to let her know that he’d been smacked around by life more than a bit. In her mind, it was all to the good. “Did you think I was going to sing a eulogy to him? Tell you that you couldn’t hope to measure up, but that I hope Danika will be happy with you anyway?”

 

The expression on his face was enough of a reply. She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “Bah. Don’t be an idiot, _cariad_. Danny was a nice enough sort, but not at all good enough for my granddaughter.”

 

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Wesley said cautiously. “Her friends…”

 

“Do you see her friends here?” Enid asked. “No. I see you, and I see Spike. You are her friends, and you are as unlike Daniel as night and day, thank heaven.”

 

Wesley started to shake his head as though to argue, and Enid continued, hoping to put a certain ghost to rest for once and all. “My Danika was a girl when they met, and a solemn child. No wonder, with all the heartache she’d known. Daniel was bold and handsome, always singing and dancing.”

 

Enid pretended not to see Wesley’s wince. Wesley was coming to the rapid conclusion that Enid had been right; he wouldn’t have liked the man. It sounded as though Danny was the sort of person that Wesley had always wanted to be as a young man, and the sort that had always shunned him.

 

“So. He saw her, and he wanted her, and Nika wanted him right back,” Enid stated.

 

“They weren’t in love?” Wesley asked, interested in spite of himself. This was Nika they were talking about, and he hungered for knowledge about her. He couldn’t know enough. He wanted to understand her as well as she seemed to understand him.

 

Enid snorted. “Oh, they were in love. Daniel loved her, in his own way. But life was a game to him. He’d never experienced any sorrow, or heartache, and he never took anything seriously. At the time, perhaps Nika needed that. He, at least, taught her how to play. Later, when they discovered he could not father children, he did not understand how much pain that brought her.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “Surely they could have adopted, or chosen another option,” he said. “There are other ways to have children. I hardly think Nika would have minded.”

 

“No, she would not have minded.”

 

Her tone told Wesley everything he needed to know. “He didn’t want children.”

 

“No,” Enid confirmed. “He would have given them to her, had he been able to father them, but he was unwilling to go any further to help her. Daniel was too busy being a policeman and fighting demons to see that Danika was slowly crumbling. He did not know how to help her bear her burden.”

 

“So he ran away,” Wesley said softly, remembering what Lorne had told him so recently.

 

Enid nodded. “Daniel ran, and he got himself killed.” She gave Wesley a serious look. “I do not tell you this because I wish you to think ill of his memory, but because I believe that even as Nika needed Daniel so many years ago, now she needs you. She needs a man who understands sorrow and hurt and grief, one who will help her bear those burdens, and whose burdens she can in turn bear. Do you understand?”

 

“You’re saying—” Wesley faltered. He thought she was saying that he and Nika were meant to be together, that he was right for her. He could hardly think it to himself, let alone say the words aloud.

 

“That I believe you to be a good man, and a gentle one.” She smiled gently. “You are not a warrior, Wesley, but a soldier. A man who fights because he must, and yet longs to be able to go home at the end of the day.” Standing, Enid set her mug down on the stairs and took Wesley’s head between both hands. “You will live long, and you will know joy, _cariad annwyl_.” Bending down, she kissed his forehead in benediction.

 

Wesley swallowed hard as she held him, held him the way he could never remember his mother doing, nor anyone else. “And Wesley?” she murmured.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Call me _nain_.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was woken by the shrill ring of his cell phone. With a curse, he reached over to pick it up. He could never quite remember to turn it off before he went to bed. Not that the thing rang constantly, but it always seemed to go off when he was trying to get some sleep. He supposed it had something to do with Murphy’s Law.

 

“H’lo.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Spike.”

 

He blinked the last of the sleep out of his eyes and sat up straighter. “Buffy?”

 

“Yeah.” Some of the cheerfulness in her voice was now replaced with caution. “Is this a bad time?”

 

“No, luv. Just a bit surprised to hear from you is all.” He paused and considered. “That, an’ I was asleep.”

 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” she replied.

 

“I’m not,” he said, before he could bite back the words. Of course, it was true. He wasn’t sorry to hear from Buffy at any time of the day or night. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure how much of his heart he really wanted to reveal to her.

 

But he could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, “I’m glad I’m not bugging you. I just wanted to say ‘Merry Christmas’ and make sure you’re still coming down next week.”

 

“Yeah, luv. Talked to Connor the other day, an’ he’s catching a lift from me. Couldn’t disappoint the Nibblet.” There was a hesitation, and then he said, “Or you.”

 

There was a silence on the other end, and Spike could almost picture the Slayer at her most indecisive—biting her lip, eyes focused on the middle distance. “I wish you could be here.”

 

Spike had no idea how to respond to that, other than to say, “Christmas is a time for family, Slayer.”

 

“And you’re not family?” she asked. “I know that’s the way Dawn thinks of you. And I do too.”

 

Spike was now officially confused—if he hadn’t been before. It wasn’t as though Buffy was sending him mixed signals. No, her signals had all been quite clear, and seemed to consistently read “I want you with me.” That was part of the problem. Buffy wasn’t known for sending clear signals.

 

In the past, the Slayer had said “yes” one minute, and “no” the next. She would come looking for him one hour, and leave him bleeding in an alley just a short time later. Part of their dance was all about her _not_ giving him a clear indication of where he stood, making him guess, making him sweat. (Except that vampires don’t sweat.) Spike wanted to ask what the bleedin’ hell had changed, because the rules were different, and he wasn’t even sure what the game was supposed to be.

 

“’ve got my own family here, pet,” he said in gentle rebuke.

 

He heard her sigh. “I know, Spike. I just—I wish we had the same families, you know?”

 

“I know, luv.” Spike leaned back in his bed and thought about what he would have given to be a part of her family at one point. Now, he had his own, and had no desire to give that up. Even for Buffy. Especially for Buffy. “I’ll be up next week. Tell the Bit happy Christmas from me, yeah?”

 

“Sure,” Buffy replied, sounding sad. “I’ll see you soon, Spike.”

 

“Yeah. Soon, Slayer.” He hung up the phone and then scrubbed one hand over his face, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He still wanted her—wanted her even more than he thought possible in moments like this, when everything seemed possible. He couldn’t leave Wesley though. He couldn’t. No matter how much he might still love Buffy, Spike knew that his first loyalty was to his family in L.A. It had to be, for his own sanity.

 

But he wanted her so bad.

 

~~~~~

 

This particular year, Christmas at the Summers’ residence was more subdued. It probably had to do with the fact that Dawn was old enough to appreciate sleeping in, rather than waking the entire house in her haste to unwrap presents. It was a leisurely morning, with everyone finally showing up around noon.

 

Buffy had cooked (she’d recently seemed to get the hang of it), and everyone ate until they were too full to move. Presents were opened, conversation was made, eggnog was consumed. It was really a lovely day.

 

But Buffy still felt Spike’s absence.

 

It was ridiculous to miss him so badly when he’d never really spent a Christmas with them. Even the Christmas after the gang brought her back from the grave, she had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome. Remembering that now, Buffy felt a flush of shame. She’d wasted so much time.

 

Sitting out here on the back porch, where she and Spike had shared so many silences, so many conversations, she remembered why it was that she missed him. She recognized the dull ache that had been with her for three years. She had explained it away as fatigue, being sorry she was alive, the most recent breakup with the most recent boyfriend.

 

She now realized she’d missed him this whole time.

 

“There you are, Buffy,” Giles said, coming outside, a glass of brandy in his hand. “I wanted to speak with you.”

 

Buffy looked up at him, smiling. “’Bout what?”

 

“About what I worked out with the Council,” he replied, sitting down beside her. “I think we might have managed to arrange something out that will be beneficial to all involved.”

 

Buffy looked skeptical. “And that would be…”

 

“As I mentioned, I have noticed that the activity around the Hellmouth has been greatly reduced these last few years. It is my belief that it is becoming dormant, and that the demonic activity will eventually shift to somewhere other than Sunnydale.” Giles gave her a compassionate look. “There is no reason for you to stay here anymore, should you not want to.”

 

Buffy blinked. “You’re saying I could leave Sunnydale.” She took a deep breath. “But the Council doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

 

“No,” Giles agreed. “What the Council does have is the ability to declare you retired.” At the look on Buffy’s face, Giles explained. “Faith has been showing continued improvement over the last few years. It’s my understanding that she will be up for parole shortly. The Council will make sure that it’s approved. Faith will be the Slayer, as she was meant to be. And you will receive a pension from the Council. Of course, should you choose to continue to pursue your Slayer activities, no one will mind, but it will no longer be required of you.”

 

Buffy felt as though she couldn’t breathe. This was everything she had ever wanted, and she couldn’t believe it. “Giles, are you sure? Is Faith ready?” Buffy shook her head. “Who’s going to be her Watcher?”

 

Giles held up a hand to stem the flow of questions. “I doubt that you are aware that the Council has gone through quite a turnover in the last year. Several of the older—hmm, shall we say stuffier?—members have recently passed away or stepped down, leaving more forward thinking individuals. A number of whom are, quite frankly, good friends of mine.”

 

He sighed. “As for Faith, Angel assures us that she has changed, and I’ve spoken to her myself. I feel that she could take over as the Slayer and do an adequate job. The job of Watcher for Faith is still open, though they have asked me to help select a candidate, hopefully someone like her first Watcher, with whom she got on quite well.”

 

Buffy looked over at him. “Giles, is this the right thing? I mean, it’s not like I want to retire completely. I just want—”

 

“Options?” he asked gently. “There is nothing wrong with that, Buffy. While I will never be sorry that Willow brought you back, I will say that it was asking too much of you.”

 

Buffy nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was.”

 

They sat in silence for a while longer before Giles asked, “What will you do?”

 

The Slayer sighed. “I’ll have to talk to Dawn, but I think I want to sell the house, or maybe rent it out. Now that I have the choice, I think I want to move back to L.A. Dawn likes it there, and we both have friends there.”

 

“I assume you are talking about Spike,” Giles said carefully.

 

Buffy shot him a look. “Yes. I’m talking about Spike. You should know that I asked him to look after the baby if anything happens to me.” Giles looked shocked, but Buffy ignored him. “He keeps his promises, Giles. No matter what, you have to give him credit for that.”

 

The Watcher was about to argue, but shut his mouth. Buffy was right, of course. Spike did keep his promises. “I hope you will both be able to work something out to your mutual satisfaction,” Giles said. “And I hope you’ll be happy, Buffy. The pension the Council is offering isn’t much, but it’s enough to help you out at least.”

 

Buffy smiled. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Giles. It’ll work out.”

 

“Indeed,” he replied.

 

And they both remained seated, immersed in their own thoughts.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike pulled up in front of Buffy’s house right on time. He and Connor had left L.A. right after sunset with, amazingly enough, Angel’s permission. The other vampire had actually been rather cordial on the phone, not even threatening to stake him once.

 

Spike had nearly asked Connor if his father had gotten body-snatched.

 

Waiting until the boy had dismounted, he swung his leg over the bike, watching as Connor copied his movements when he tucked the helmet under his arm. “What time do you want to leave?”

 

Connor considered for a moment. “Whenever,” he finally said. “But I promised Dad I’d be back before the sun rose.” He grinned suddenly. “He’s just trying to put off the inevitable.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow and headed up the walk. “Inevitable?”

 

Connor shrugged. “Sure. He thinks if he starts giving me more freedom and gets off my case, I won’t move out.”

 

“You two doing alright, then?” Spike asked. “I might not always like him, but I don’t want to cause any trouble ‘tween you two.”

 

Connor gave Spike one of his quick, rare grins. “We’re fine. Dad knows he has to let go sometime, and he won’t always like my friends. Cordy’s really good about getting him to loosen up.”

 

Spike nodded, glad that he and Wesley’s relationship with the boy wasn’t causing trouble between he and his father. “From what I’ve heard, I ‘magine she would be.”

 

He had to admit that he liked the lad. The boy was a deft one with weapons of any kind, and was

good in a fight. More than that, he made Dawn happy, and for that reason alone Spike would have liked him.

 

If Connor broke her heart, it would be a completely different story.

 

Spike rang the doorbell and then stepped back, letting Connor stay in the lead. He wasn’t sure who would be answering the door, nor what their reaction to him might be. Spike wasn’t a coward, but he understood the benefits of having a buffer. Buffy was the one who answered the door, however, and she greeted her sister’s boyfriend with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey, Connor. Come on in. Dawn’s waiting anxiously for your arrival.”

 

Connor blushed at the attention, gave her a shy smile, and ducked inside to find Dawn. Buffy’s eyes stayed on Spike. “Hey. I’m glad you could make it.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Spike replied, stepping inside.

 

They stood like that for a while, neither knowing what to say, and yet neither wanting to break eye contact. It seemed enough just to look, the sight of the other like a draught of water after a long trek through the desert. “Spike!”

 

Dawn broke through their stasis with her cheerful greeting. “You made it!”

 

“Sure I did, Bit,” he said, managing a warm smile for the girl. “Promised, didn’t I?”

 

She grinned. “Then get in here. No point standing around in the hall waiting. There’s food in the living room. Buffy even figured out how to make a blooming onion for you.”

 

Spike’s head snapped around to stare at her, a note of wonder kindling in his eyes. Buffy looked uncharacteristically shy in response. “Well, I tried. No one’s been allowed to touch it yet, so I don’t know how good it’s going to be.”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, luv,” Spike said, and the feeling in his eyes sent shivers up and down Buffy’s spine.

 

The evening went reasonably well. Buffy had sat Xander down and had a very serious talk with him, which meant he was actually being cordial to Spike. Of course, cordial for Xander meant that he mumbled “hello” and proceeded to ignore the vampire.

 

No one else seemed to be having an adverse reaction to Spike’s presence. Willow and Giles both greeted him genially, before returning to their conversation. Dawn was happy to have him, as was Buffy, but the Slayer noticed that Spike was soon looking uncomfortable, as though he couldn’t wait to escape.

 

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You want to go out to the back porch?” Buffy offered. “You look like you’re dying for a cigarette.”

 

“Figuratively speaking,” he admitted. He followed her through the kitchen, watching in amusement as she grabbed the plate with the blooming onion to take out back with them.

 

Outside, Spike breathed a sigh of relief and lit up. While no one had gone out of their way to make him feel uncomfortable, he still felt as though he didn’t quite belong. There were times with Wesley and Nika that he forgot he was a vampire—or at least he forgot it was supposed to make a difference. The memories were too close here. These were the people who had consistently treated him like shit, even when he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

 

Spike felt like he didn’t belong here. Which meant he didn’t belong with Buffy.

 

Hiding his melancholy mood behind cigarette smoke and appreciative bites of Buffy’s blooming onion, he sat with the Slayer in silence.

 

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

 

Spike glanced over at her, taking his time before answering. She was always wanting a favor. “What would that be, pet?”

 

Buffy glanced over at him and then away again, out into the yard. “Would you ask Nika if she’d like to be midwife to a Slayer? I’ve been looking into things, and I think I really want to use a midwife. You know, do the whole thing the natural way.”

 

“I’ve heard that can be a mite painful,” Spike said dryly. “Might turn you off havin’ any more kiddies.”

 

“I’m not going to have any more children, Spike,” Buffy replied quietly.

 

Spike looked concerned. “Here now, this isn’t about thinkin’ you won’t live long enough, is it?”

 

“I don’t have a death wish, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied. “But a normal guy can’t handle the Slayer, Spike. And non-normal guys are both rare and typically unable to have kids. Therefore, probably not having more.”

 

Spike wasn’t sure what to say to that. Her reasoning seemed both logical and innocuous, not due to any kind of death-wish, or contemplation of her own mortality. It was the meaning of “non-normal guys” that made him wonder. Was she trying to tell him something, or was he reading into her statement a meaning that wasn’t there?

 

“Well, long as you’re plannin’ on bein’ around a good long while, s’pose I can ask Nika to midwife for you,” Spike conceded. “But, luv, you know she’s in L.A. That’s goin’ to make things inconvenient for one of you.”

 

“I’m not planning on being here for the birth, Spike,” Buffy said evenly.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You want to have the baby in L.A.?”

 

“No, I want to move to L.A.”

 

Hell had just frozen over. “You—L.A.—” Spike took a moment to find his tongue. “You’re movin’?”

 

“Giles gave me the thumbs-up,” she explained. “Hellmouth activity is way down, Faith’s going to get out on parole soon, and I’m being given the okay to retire. I even get a pension.”

 

Spike blinked. “An’ you’ve decided to come to L.A.?”

 

“Dawn likes it there,” Buffy said. “And I have friends there.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah, you do at that. So you’re gonna be close.”

 

“Very close, I hope.” The silence stretched out between them as Spike tried to figure out what exactly Buffy was saying. Was she moving to be closer to Dawn, because it was really what she wanted, or did it have something to with him? Could it possibly have something to do with him?

 

“That’ll be good,” he admitted.

 

Her hand found his in the darkness. “I want to get to know you again,” she said softly. “I missed you.”

 

Because it was dark, and because he didn’t have to see her face, see the derision or the anger, Spike replied with the truth. “My feelings haven’t changed, Buffy. Thought they might someday, but I was foolin’ myself. It can’t be like it was though.”

 

“No, it can’t,” she agreed. “Can we just be friends for a while? I mean, the kind of friends where everybody knows about it, and we just hang out, like it was for a while. I—You remember when I would have those nightmares?”

 

“I remember,” he replied gently.

 

Buffy turned and faced him for the first time. “I felt safe with you. You were the only one who could make the nightmares go away. It wasn’t just me using you, Spike. It meant something.”

 

“No, Slayer,” he corrected her. “It meant everything.”

 

She didn’t reply in words. Instead, she kissed him, her lips wet with her own tears. It was a gentle kiss, tentative, and hopeful. And when it was over, they sat close, shoulders touching, like old friends or lovers.


	20. January 2006

“Do you have everything you need?” Buffy asked her sister, sounding a little anxious.

 

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Buffy, we’re only going to be gone like one night. Maybe two. It’s not that big of a deal.”

 

“Who said it was?” Buffy asked, sounding defensive. “I didn’t say it was a big deal.”

 

Dawn snorted. “Please. You’ve been jumpy all day. What’s your deal? Just because we’re going to meet Nika’s _nain_—” she stopped. “It’s because of Spike, isn’t it? You’re nervous about seeing him again.”

 

“Of course not,” Buffy scoffed. “I mean, I just saw him a few days ago.”

 

Dawn gave her sister a knowing look. “Except that you told him we were moving to L.A., which is sort of like saying the ‘l’-word.”

 

“Me moving to L.A. has nothing to do with Spike,” Buffy said firmly. “I might have strong feelings, but I’m not _in_ love with Spike.”

 

“Which is why you’re acting like a teenager with her first crush,” Dawn said wisely. “Sure, Buffy. Look, just do me a favor, okay? If you really do fall in love with the guy, just go with it. Nobody cares if you’re with him. Nobody who really matters, anyway.” She reached over and gave her sister a hug. “He still loves you, you know?”

 

“I know,” Buffy said quietly. “I know. Amazingly enough, I don’t think that’s the point.”

 

“Then what is the point?”

 

“Do I love him enough?” Buffy sighed. “Because I know I love him enough to not want to hurt him again.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike tugged the sweater on over his head. It was one that Nika had given him for Christmas, which she assured him was very flattering. Buffy was going to be arriving any minute, and he wanted to be sure he looked—

 

“Bugger this,” he muttered, although he left the sweater on. Just because the Slayer was moving to L.A. didn’t mean anything. So what if she was going to be closer? So what if it appeared as though she might actually want a relationship with him? It didn’t mean anything.

 

He’d gotten his hopes up before, and it had just landed him in more trouble than he wanted.

 

“Spike? Are you ready?” Nika came down the stairs cautiously. “Is anything wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replied, his tone a little sharp. Spike sighed, softening his expression slightly. “Sorry, luv. ‘s just—”

 

“Things can change, Spike,” Nika said with a smile. “Sometimes for the better.”

 

He looked away. “Not when you’re me,” he muttered.

 

“Hey, you met me, didn’t you?” she teased. “Not to mention Wesley. Who’s to say you won’t live happily ever after?”

 

“Past experience,” Spike said dryly.

 

Nika frowned. “Spike—”

 

He shook his head, forestalling her words. “Don’t mind me, luv. Just feelin’ a bit out of sorts tonight.”

 

Nika put a gentle hand on his cheek. “You have the right, _cariad_. Come upstairs now?”

 

“Right behind you,” Spike assured her. He heard Buffy’s voice before they reached the main level, and could tell that Wesley was making introductions.

 

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Buffy was saying as they came out to the living room. Spike could see Enid giving her the once-over, and he had the suspicion that Nika had told her of his feelings for the Slayer.

 

Actually, Spike knew Nika had been filling her grandmother in on him. Every time they started giggling and speaking exclusively in Welsh, he knew they were talking about him. He’d actually been keeping fairly close to Wesley the past couple weeks, since the other man spoke the language, and they didn’t act quite as giddy when the ex-Watcher was around.

 

Enid smiled and warmly returned her greeting. “It is nice to meet you as well, Buffy.” She turned and looked at Dawn. “And you must be Dawn. I have heard many good things about you.”

 

Dawn blushed and smiled. “It’s nice to know I’m appreciated,” she joked.

 

“We should eat,” Enid announced. “The food will be cold soon.”

 

The others headed off for the small dining room, leaving Spike and Buffy face to face. Neither one of them knew how to greet each other. A few years ago, it wouldn’t have mattered—the Slayer would have either popped him in the nose or jumped his bones or not even acknowledged his presence. Everything was different these days, and the feeling of being off balance left both of them on edge and insecure.

 

Buffy wanted to kiss him, or embrace him, but she wasn’t sure it was allowed. She had no idea what constituted “good touching” anymore. She had no idea what he wanted from her. Finally, after several seconds of silence, she decided it was time to grab the bull by the horns.

 

Spike was a bit surprised when Buffy kissed him gently on the cheek in greeting, but he couldn’t help but feel pleased. Feeling very daring, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Glad you and the Bit could make it, luv.”

 

Buffy simply smiled and tucked her hand into his arm, letting him lead the way into the dining room.

 

~~~~~

 

Dinner proved to be a highly enjoyable affair for all parties. Enid and Nika were both excellent  cooks, and the table groaned beneath the weight of all the food. Before long, the wine was flowing, with even Dawn partaking of a small glass, although Buffy abstained. As everyone became more comfortable, the stories also began to flow.

 

Enid related one of the more spectacular births she’d attended, complete with triplets delivered in a raging blizzard. Nika told the story of the demon birth she’d been hijacked into helping with, and Wesley’s role in the affair. Her praise had him flushing with pleasure. Next it was Dawn’s turn to tell about one of her and Connor’s more embarrassing moments, involving a first kiss where neither of them quite knew what to do.

 

“That can hardly be worse than the first kiss I had with Cordelia,” Wesley commented among the chuckles.

 

Buffy’s eyebrows flew straight up. “You kissed Cordelia?” She gave a snort of laughter. “I knew you had your eyes on her, but then you guys didn’t seem all that close when you left Sunnydale.”

 

Wesley grinned ruefully and shot an apologetic glance at Nika. “I’m not sure I should be discussing past kisses in front of my girlfriend.”

 

“No, I think I’d quite like to hear about this disastrous kiss.” Nika gave him a playful look.

 

Wesley sighed. “You just want to embarrass me.”

 

“Of course,” was her quick reply.

 

“Very well, then,” he began. “It was right before we went out to face the Mayor. You remember,” he said, looking over at Buffy. She nodded and he continued. “So we were packing up books, and I believe we both had the idea in our heads that we might die.”

 

“Carpe diem?” Spike asked with a smirk.

 

“Something like that,” Wesley admitted. “In any case, we go to kiss each other, and I went one way, and she went the same way, so we both bumped noses. And then I’m afraid I slobbered all over her chin. You can see why we never said anything.”

 

Buffy laughed. “And to think Xander was completely jealous of you.”

 

“Yes, well, that was probably premature,” Wesley replied with a small smile.

 

Nika reached over and took his hand. “Well, whatever your kissing prowess might have been like then, I would say you have improved a hundred-fold.”

 

Wesley gave her a small smile in return. “Thank you, my love.”

 

“Besides, kissing is not your only talent,” she whispered, too low for anyone but Spike and Wesley to catch the words.

 

Spike watched the tips of Wesley’s ears turned pink.

 

“Well, you should have seen Spike the first time he tried to cook.”

 

The vampire looked over at Dawn and gave her a death-glare, “Bit—”

 

“Wait a minute,” Buffy said. “Spike can cook?”

 

“‘Tried’ being the operative word,” Dawn said with a smile. “It was the summer that Buffy was—away, right? Tara and Willow moved in, but they were both working all the time, and Spike decided I wasn’t eating ‘properly.’”

 

“Oh, bugger,” Spike muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

 

“So anyway, I get back from being out with a friend, because Spike insisted I get home by six, and he’s in the kitchen ‘making dinner,’” Dawn made little air quotes as she said it. “He had all of Mom’s recipes scattered all over the place, about four pots boiling over on the stove, and whatever was in the oven was burning. He’d tried to figure out what my favorite meal was, but he couldn’t. Not to mention the fact that he was wearing one of Mom’s aprons.”

 

Wesley couldn’t hold in his laughter. “An apron?”

 

“Sod off,” Spike said.

 

Dawn grinned. “It was a complete mess. Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to. In the end, we ordered pizza and left the clean up for the next morning. It was probably the nicest thing anybody did for me that summer.”

 

Spike looked up, startled. He met Dawn’s eyes across the table and smiled, one of his sweet, rare smiles that he saved for his girls. “That right, luv?”

 

Buffy watched the exchange and felt a pang. She’d insisted that Spike and Dawn stop spending time with one another after she got back, thinking it wrong somehow for the girl to want to hang around a vampire so much. She hadn’t understood; the Slayer hadn’t any idea of what that summer had really been like.

 

“Yeah,” Dawn said, but then her grin turned evil. “Of course, the apron was priceless.”

 

“Indeed,” Wesley agreed. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

 

Spike smirked. “Too bad, because it ain’t gonna happen, mate.”

 

Buffy watched the interplay between the two men, watched the way they interacted with Dawn, saw their responses to Nika and Enid, and was highly impressed. There was a sense of family there that had been present with the Scooby gang at the best of times. Even now, when she and her friends had grown apart, there was a feeling of coming home when they all got together again. But this—this place could be a new home, a different one.

 

She looked over at Nika, who had caught her watching Spike. The two women locked eyes, and then both smiled.

 

Buffy glanced back over at Spike. Oh, yes. This could also become home.

 

~~~~~

 

“Spike told me you’d decided you wanted to use a midwife,” Nika said, joining Buffy in the living room. Dawn had left a little earlier to meet Connor, and Wesley and Spike were helping Enid with the dishes. Buffy had been told in no uncertain terms that she was a guest and thus exempt from washing up.

 

Buffy smiled at the other woman. “Yeah. I was looking into it, and I thought it might be a good idea, especially given who I am. I don’t think anyone really knows what happens when the Slayer gives birth.”

 

“I won’t pretend that I know anything about it either, then,” Nika said with a smile. “May I ask you a personal question, Buffy?”

 

The Slayer looked at the other woman warily. “Sure, I guess.”

 

“Do you have feelings for Spike?”

 

Buffy hesitated before answering, though it had nothing to do with not wanting to admit to it. It had everything to do with not knowing how to answer the question. “I—yeah, I do,” she breathed. “I just haven’t sorted them all out yet.”

 

Nika nodded wisely. “It is often difficult to know how we feel about others. I have found that I have a tendency to let what I feel for one person influence how I feel for another. And sometimes, we fear the unknown that the other person represents for us.”

 

“Something like that,” Buffy admitted. “It’s more than that, though. Things between Spike and I have always been tense, either because he was trying to kill me or because I was just waiting for the chip to stop working. My worst fear came true when he got the chip out—except that he didn’t start killing again.”

 

Nika looked at the younger woman compassionately. She could understand Buffy’s fear of getting involved with a vampire. Loving one went against everything she was, everything she had been taught. Nika had a great deal of trepidation herself where it concerned getting involved with another demon hunter. “If your worst fear has not been realized, what is stopping you?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “It’s complicated. I mean, I’ve loved him for a while now, but sometimes love isn’t enough.”

 

“No,” Nika agreed. “Sometimes it isn’t. Maybe if you give yourself some time to get to know him you’ll discover that it can be.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike and Wesley were good-naturedly arguing over the last cookie when Spike’s head suddenly shot up. “Bloody hell.” Wesley raised an eyebrow. Spike’s tone was equal parts angry and reverent, and the vampire abandoned the cookie and started patting his pockets. “Need a smoke,” he muttered, ducking out the backdoor.

 

Wesley and Enid exchanged glances. Wesley shrugged in response to her unspoken question, and headed out after his friend. “Spike?”

 

“’m fine.” There was a hiss and a flare as Spike lit a cigarette. “’s nothin’.”

 

Wesley didn’t believe him for a second. “Somehow I doubt that. What did you hear?”

 

It was the only thing he could think of. Buffy and Nika had been talking in the other room, and while he couldn’t make out many of their words, Spike’s hearing was quite good. The vampire whirled to face him, almost bursting with suppressed energy. Wesley couldn’t tell if he was upset or not. “She loved me. Or loves me. Not clear on that part.”

 

Wesley blinked. “Buffy said she’s in love with you?”

 

“No, she said she loved me,” Spike corrected him. “’s completely different. She said it’s been for a while. A while!” He started pacing, smoking almost frantically and running a hand through his short hair. “What the bleedin’ hell am I supposed to do now?”

 

Wesley frowned, sitting down on the patio chair Nika left out there for just such a purpose. He had a feeling this could take a while to sort out. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

 

“No. Well, yeah. Sort of.” Spike sighed and abruptly slumped down in the chair across from him. “I just—Never thought I would hear it, yeah? An’ now she says it, but she doesn’t know I heard. An’ she doesn’t even know if I’m what she wants.” Spike stood and started pacing again. Wesley was beginning to get dizzy. “I don’t even know if she’s what I want,” he admitted in a low voice.

 

“Do you love her still?” Wesley asked gently.

 

“’Course,” Spike said impatiently. “That’s not the problem.”

 

“Then what is the problem?”

 

“Don’t know if I trust her,” Spike said quietly, sitting down again. “I—I can’t go back there, mate. I can’t give her everythin’ again. Got other obligations.”

 

Wesley nodded slowly. “What will you do?”

 

Spike took another drag and stubbed out his cigarette in the coffee can Nika left out there for him. “Dunno.” He looked up sharply, and Wesley got a sinking feeling in his gut. “You could help.”

 

“I doubt it,” Wesley said severely. “I think this is something you and Buffy should work out for yourselves.”

 

Spike shook his head. “You know how well that turned out for me last time, Wesley,” he coaxed. “You could feel her out for me, figure out what she’s plannin’, why she’s movin’ to L.A.” When Wesley shook his head stubbornly, Spike fixed him with a stern glare. “You owe me.”

 

“Owe you for what?” Wesley asked.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I helped you out with Nika, didn’t I? Told you she fancied you, encouraged her in your direction.”

 

Wesley wasn’t sure that Spike’s actions meant that he owed the vampire, but he had to admit that he probably did owe Spike _something_ for any number of reasons. “Buffy and I are hardly the best of friends, Spike. I don’t know why you would think she’d confide in me.”

 

The wheels were turning in Spike’s head, and he wasn’t in the mood to be listening to Wesley’s objections. “No, you could talk to her. She’ll want to be lookin’ for apartments. You could offer to help. Or I could offer your services. Nika’s subbing for that EMT the next few weeks, so she can’t, an’ shoppin’ for a place to live is a daylight job, so I can’t. You could go with her.”

 

Wesley gave Spike a slightly exasperated look. “I doubt she’d need my help finding a place to live, Spike. She’s a grown woman, for one thing, and I have nothing but a bare acquaintance with her. I believe those kinds of services are usually offered by someone who is rather close.”

 

“But you know your way ‘round L.A.,” Spike reminded him triumphantly. “So maybe she’d want your help.”

 

Wesley didn’t think so, but he sighed. He was fairly certain that Buffy would reject any offer of help, as she struck him as the independent sort. On the other hand, if he offered, and Buffy refused, he would have fulfilled his promise. “I’ll offer,” he said. “But, if she says no, you’ll just have to deal with it yourself.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Spike said, waving a hand.

 

Wesley gave him a piercing look. “Have you ever thought of asking her out?”

 

“Askin’ her out? Like on a date?” Spike asked, a blank look on his face.

 

“Yes, asking her out. I’ve heard that women like that,” Wesley said dryly. “Dinner, a movie, the usual.”

 

Spike frowned. “Buffy an’ I don’t have that kind of relationship,” he objected. “We’ve never done that sort of thing.” At Wesley’s raised eyebrow, Spike gave him a dirty look. “She wasn’t interested! She bloody well hated me. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

 

“Did you ever try it?” Wesley asked gently.

 

Spike shrugged. “Well, there was this one time I took her lookin’ for some vamps, but she didn’t know it was s’posed to be a date.”

 

Wesley smiled. “What happened?”

 

“She figured it out, shot me down brutally, an’ I ended up chaining her up in my crypt.”

 

Wesley’s eyes widened and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It shouldn’t have been funny, but somehow the situation was so Spike—impulsive, disastrous, and probably with the best of intentions fueling the entire thing. “I’m sure that went over well.”

 

“She revoked my invite,” Spike said glumly. “An’ before you say it, I know ‘m an idiot.”

 

“I’m glad you can see that for yourself,” Wesley replied. 

 

Spike gave him a sour look. “We worked it out eventually. I had to get tortured by a Hellgod an’ all first—that was bad—but she let me back in. That was the night she died,” he said softly.

 

“Has she said anything to you at all about her own feelings or intentions?” Wesley asked, noting the almost reverent look on Spike’s face. The vampire had it bad.

 

Spike shrugged. “Said she wanted to be friends, get to know each other.”

 

“There you go,” Wesley replied. “So ask her to do something with you.”

 

Spike thought about it. “Like goin’ demon hunting?”

 

“I was thinking something a little more along the lines of a nice dinner,” Wesley said, beginning to make his own plans. He and Nika had done any number of things as friends, but there had hardly been time to go on what he would term a real date since they’d started seeing one another. Plus, he wanted to make their engagement official before Enid left, and he needed to find a ring. This might be an excellent time to take his own advice.

 

“Ask her out to a nice restaurant,” Wesley encouraged. “Talk to her.”

 

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow, a sardonic expression on his face. “Right. Last time we went out to dinner, we got into a fight ‘bout her choice of boyfriends.” He shook his head. “Think I’ll wait for your update, Wesley.”

 

The ex-Watcher sighed. “Very well. However, I expect you to do your own work after that, Spike. I have never pretended to be any kind of matchmaker.”

 

“Not askin’ you to matchmake,” Spike said with a smile. “Just do what a friend might.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Maybe you should think of starting over,” Nika said. Enid was sitting in the recliner, a glass of scotch in her hand, listening avidly to the conversation. She had the sense that Spike was getting a pep-talk from Wesley on the back porch while Nika dealt with the Slayer.

 

Buffy gave her a skeptical look. “Start over?”

 

“Certainly,” Enid said firmly. “There are times when one must discard the past and move on to whatever new opportunities present themselves, create them, if necessary.”

 

The Slayer wasn’t convinced. “Spike and I have a lot of bad history,” she said doubtfully.

 

“We all have history, Buffy,” Nika said gently. “As some might say, we all have baggage. If I let it control me, I would never have gotten involved with Wesley or Spike, and yet the joy they’ve brought is worth all the pain that might come.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t have feelings for him. It’s not even the vampire thing so much anymore. Spike’s pretty much proven that he’s in a class all his own. I just don’t know that we’re any good for each other, and we both have others besides ourselves that we have to be concerned about.”

 

Nika nodded. “Then perhaps this time you will be better for one another because you do have others to think about. It is sometimes easier to do right by another when you cannot be self-involved.”

 

“I hope you’re right,” Buffy said. “It’s just that there’s so much between us—things that we’ve both done.”

 

Enid smiled. “It is more difficult to forgive yourself, is it not? To trust yourself with the one you love after you hurt him so badly?”

 

Buffy shut her eyes against the images Enid’s words brought to mind. That night in the alley—“There’s nothing good in you…I’ll never be your girl.”

 

“I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes,” Buffy admitted. “Spike was probably the worst.”

 

“And yet you have a chance to repair those mistakes, perhaps to build a relationship that would be even stronger than before.” Nika smiled at her. “Don’t let your fear stop you Buffy, not if you think Spike is worth the risk.”

 

Buffy managed a smile in reply, but that wasn’t the problem. She knew Spike was worth the risk, but did Spike still feel the same way about her?


	21. Late January 2006

“I really appreciate you doing this, Wesley,” Buffy said sincerely. She glanced out the window of her car, and then back over at the driver. “I do a lot better on the driving-front these days, but I’m still not used to L.A. traffic.”

 

Wesley smiled in reply. “I don’t mind, Buffy. I probably know my way around a little better than you do as well.”

 

“That’s for sure,” she said, looking at the next address on the list. “With the offerings I’ve seen so far, I’m beginning to seriously reconsider this move though.”

 

Her one-time Watcher gave her an encouraging smile. “It does take some looking, but I’m sure you’ll find something that suits, Buffy.” He paused. “You know, I could use your help with something.”

 

“Demon to slay, evil to face, vamp to kill?” she asked facetiously.

 

Somehow Wesley didn’t find Buffy’s quips nearly as annoying as he had the first time they’d met. “Actually, no. I was thinking more along the lines of finding an engagement ring.”

 

Buffy gave him a surprised look. “You’re going to ask Nika to marry you?”

 

“No, I like to keep a spare ring around, just in case,” Wesley replied sarcastically.

 

The Slayer mock-winced in appreciation. “Oooh, Wesley, sharpening that wit?”

 

“I had a good teacher,” he said softly.

 

“Spike?” At his nod, and the look in his eyes, Buffy added softly, “And Cordelia.”

 

“Yes,” Wesley admitted quietly. “She was a very good teacher.” He paused as he realized how that might sound. “In the realm of sarcasm,” he added quickly.

 

Buffy smirked. “Like I’d think it was anything else,” she teased. When Wesley shot her a dirty look, she giggled, and noticed that he couldn’t help but smile in return. She also thought that the smile made a huge improvement in his appearance. Of course, five—six?—years had also made a huge improvement in the whole package, in her estimation.

 

“Very funny,” he replied, but he was smiling slightly. “But back to the ring—I’ve already asked Nika to marry me actually. It sort of slipped out. I’d like to make it official, however.”

 

“And you want me to help you look for a ring?” Buffy asked doubtfully. “That’s kind of personal, Wes. I mean, I don’t know Nika all that well.”

 

“That’s what I told Spike about helping someone look for a place to live,” he said.

 

Buffy smiled and rolled her eyes. “Spike put you up to this?” she asked. “He always could get a little overprotective.”

 

Wesley smiled in reply, not denying her impression. “I just want a second opinion.”

 

“A woman’s opinion,” she supplied, and then shrugged. “Sure, I don’t mind. As long as you don’t blame me if she doesn’t like it.”

 

“I promise not to hold you accountable for her reaction,” he assured her.

 

Buffy nodded. “Okay, one more place on the list, and then we can call it a day.”

 

As it usually happened, the last place on the list was the one Buffy liked the most. “This is perfect.”

 

Wesley stood in the doorway, looking over at the real estate agent in charge of the property. The agent was obviously getting dollar signs in her eyes at the sight of the young blonde woman, and Wesley cleared his throat. “I don’t know, Buffy. I’m not sure this is what you really wanted. The price is rather high for a three bedroom flat.”

 

“It’s a townhouse,” the agent corrected him, giving him an annoyed, and slightly superior look. “And the price is a good one for a property like this.”

 

It was too late, however. Buffy had already caught on to Wesley’s game. “Do you really think so, Wes?” she said, a little breathlessly. Wesley had to stifle a chuckle at the utter guilelessness of her voice. He had to wonder how many vampires—including his current partner—had been taken in by her blonde beauty and led to believe she was harmless. He watched as she turned back to the agent. “I never make a decision without consulting my cousin,” she gushed. “He’s a genius with numbers.”

 

The agent was getting a distinctly sour expression. “Yes, well, we can talk about the price, of course. We wouldn’t want anyone to leave dissatisfied.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy was giggling as they drove away from the townhouse. “Why on earth did you say I was your cousin?” Wesley asked, though not without a certain amount of humor in his own voice.

 

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Buffy said, pulling herself under control. “Besides, it’s not like you could pass for my brother, and I wasn’t going to say that you were my boyfriend.”

 

“Cousin does seem like a reasonable alternative,” he admitted with a reluctant smile. “I take it you’re selling the house in Sunnydale.”

 

Buffy nodded, sobering quickly. “I thought about renting it, but then I’d have to either play landlord or have someone there do it. I talked to an agent, and he seemed to think he could get me a good deal on the house. Enough to take care of the rest of the mortgage and have a little left over, you know? Property values have been going up in Sunnydale for the past couple of years.” Buffy smiled ruefully. “Listen to me talking about the prices of housing. My mom would be so proud of me.”

 

“I really think she would be, Buffy,” Wesley said quietly.

 

She gave him a grateful look. “So anyway, looks like I’ll be renting a townhouse, thanks to you. What about looking for a ring for your girlfriend?”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike lounged on his couch, letting the noise from the TV wash over him. He’d been feeling rather glum the past couple of weeks, ever since the Slayer had inadvertently revealed her feelings for him. As Wesley had suggested, it was what he wanted, it just wasn’t the way he wanted to find out.

 

Besides, their tentative relationship felt strained. Spike knew it was partly his fault; Buffy certainly hadn’t pulled back or withdrawn. In fact, she had been calling at least a couple of times a week, updating him on her moving plans. He’d let her talk, asked a few questions about how other things were going, and then had let the conversation die.

 

He was a bleedin’ coward, was what he was.

 

Spike couldn’t seem to sort out his own emotions. Yes, he was still in love with Buffy. He always would be. Every time he thought about her, however, her words would echo back at him. “You’re beneath me…There’s nothing good in you…I’ll never be your girl.” Spike thought that he’d managed to forgive her, that he’d left Sunnydale not only because of what she’d done to him, but because he’d caught a glimpse of their future.

 

He wasn’t so sure anymore, either about his reasons for leaving or about whether he’d really forgiven Buffy. Was it true forgiveness when you couldn’t forget, but you wanted to? When you wanted to trust, but couldn’t?

 

Spike honestly didn’t have the foggiest—he was a vampire. He wasn’t supposed to know anything about forgiveness or redemption, nor was he supposed to care.

 

There were days when he really wished he was still evil.

 

“William?” Spike glanced up from the TV he hadn’t been watching to see Enid standing next to him. She was the only one who called him by his given name. Spike somehow didn’t mind when she used it.

 

“H’lo. Get back from your shopping trip already, luv?” he asked, flipping the television off.

 

She smiled and sank down next to him gratefully. “Indeed. I wanted to get an engagement present for Wesley and Danika before I had to leave.”

 

“You sure you can’t stay?” he asked, half-seriously. “’s been nice havin’ you here.”

 

Enid smiled at the vampire in return. “Thank you, but no, I don’t believe I can stay just yet. However,” she added, smiling, “I have a feeling that I will be ready for retirement when Nika makes me a great-grandmother. I may find myself in L.A. permanently then.”

 

Spike smiled in return. “That would be grand, Enid. I think both of them would appreciate it.”

 

“And what about you?” she asked quietly. Enid had noticed Spike’s growing gloom over the past couple weeks, and had labeled the Slayer as the cause, although Buffy was most likely completely unaware of her role in his mood. “What would it take to make your life grand?”

 

Spike frowned, not quite comprehending the question. “I don’t—”

 

“You have been gloomy for days,” Enid stated. “Ever since Buffy was here and you heard her tell Danika how she felt about you. Tell me why.”

 

Spike shrugged. “No reason. Just a bit out of sorts, is all. Doesn’t matter, really.”

 

“Doesn’t it?” Enid asked with a sigh. “Tell me about how you met. Your first thoughts when you saw her.”

 

A baffled look crossed the vampire’s face, and then he shrugged. It seemed that the person he had been so many years ago kept re-emerging every so often, and a gentleman did not deny a request from a lady, not when he could fulfill it. “It was back a while,” he said. “When I was evil.” Spike smiled a little. “Or when I was more evil, anyway. Took Dru—my sire—to the Hellmouth. She was weak, an’ I thought it would help her.”

 

Spike closed his eyes at the memory. “Heard there was a Slayer in town, an’ I was gonna kill her, yeah? It was what I did. I’d killed two of ‘em before, didn’t think a third would be a problem. I showed up at this club all the young ones went to, an’ I saw her there, dancin’ with her friends. I knew who she was immediately—it was like her blood sang to me. She was bloody brilliant—full of life, an’ I wanted her. I wanted her dead, of course, but for a minute I thought it would be a waste to kill her—just for a minute.”

 

Enid nodded, careful not to disturb the spell that Spike had cast over himself, delving deeply into old memories. This was an exercise she had used before to help people connect with the truth of their feelings. It needed to be done subtly with Spike, as she didn’t think he would go where he needed to willingly. She needed to bring him to the crux of the matter with care. “What happened?” she asked softly.

 

“Went to kill her at one of those parent nights they have at school,” Spike said with a small smile. “Almost had her ‘til her mum came up behind me an’ hit me over the head with an ax. She was some lady.”

 

“She sounds like it,” Enid agreed, moving in to peel away another layer. “When did you know you loved her?”

 

“Had this dream,” Spike replied. “Dreamt she was goin’ to kill me, an’ then we ended up shaggin’.”

 

Enid let out a breath. “But when did you know you really loved her? When did you call yourself hopelessly hers?”

 

Spike tried to remember. The dream had been an epiphany, but he still hadn’t been happy about it. When had he realized that it was impossible to fight against his fate? “I tried to kill her,” he remembered out loud. “She—she wanted me to tell her how I killed the other Slayers, so I told her the truth, an’ it pissed her off. Think she might have suspected how I felt then, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She said I was beneath her—” Spike broke off, remembering the raw pain those words had inflicted. He’d wanted to cry, there in that alley. The Big Bad had fought back tears.

 

Spike had hated her for that as much as for what she’d said.

 

“I got a shotgun, an’ I was goin’ to kill her, chip be damned,” he said. “An’ there she was, on her back steps, cryin’. Her mum was sick, an’ I knew. I knew I’d be dust before I let anythin’ happen to her.”

 

“Tell me about why you left,” Enid said softly. “Tell me about the night that made you go.”

 

Spike’s face twisted with the memory. “It wasn’t her fists,” he said softly. “I’d had those before, an’ I didn’t mind so much. It wasn’t even her words.” He swallowed hard. “She was right, I s’pose, an’ I knew she was talkin’ as much about herself as about me.” The silence seemed stark when he paused. “But she left me there. She didn’t even—she didn’t even check the next day to make sure I made it back to my crypt, because I almost didn’t. I waited. I thought, if she checks, I won’t leave. An’ then I started packin’.

 

“I wouldn’t have minded her killin’ me,” Spike said earnestly, after a moment’s pause. “I didn’t leave because I was afraid to die for her. I was afraid I’d end up killin’ her instead, that every bit of love I felt for her would die, after I’d kept it alive for her all that summer she was gone.”

 

Enid watched as he scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, like a little boy trying not to cry. “Ah, William,” she murmured, pulling the vampire into her arms. He shook with silent sobs, and she merely did for him as she had done for her granddaughter for so many years—rubbed gentle circles on his back and murmured meaningless words of comfort. “There now, lad. Tell me why you are so afraid.”

 

It was a measure of Spike’s mental state that he didn’t even bother denying his fear. “Can’t live with losing her again. Couldn’t handle her walkin’ away again. I don’t want to see her back, not again. I don’t think I’d survive it.”

 

“We must take risks in order to truly live, William,” Enid said softly. “You love too well, my lad. You hold nothing back until there is nothing left. I think this time you must wait for the girl to come to you.”

 

Spike didn’t look up. Somehow he didn’t feel ashamed of his outburst, but he didn’t think he wanted to show Enid proof of his tears. Somehow having her hold him reminded him of his mother’s arms, of Joyce who had been kind, of Nika who had given him his first glimpse of peace. “Patience was never one of my virtues,” he replied.

 

She laughed. “Then perhaps it is time you learn.”

 

There was a long pause. “Thanks, luv.”

 

“Anytime, William.” Enid smiled. “And call me _nain_.”

 

~~~~~

 

If anyone had ever told Buffy that she would one day be helping Wesley Wyndam-Pryce pick out an engagement ring to give to his girlfriend, she would have checked them into the nearest psychiatric ward. At the very least, she would have asked them what they were smoking. It just went to show how much things could change.

 

Buffy trailed behind him over to the case with all the wedding rings and watched in amusement as he stared at the offerings. He looked as serious poring over the rings as he did over some dusty old book. “You know, Wes, you could always get something really simple and then bring Nika back here later to pick out something different.”

 

Wesley shook his head stubbornly. “I want to do this myself.”

 

“Okay,” Buffy said cheerfully, thinking it was almost cute, the way he was taking this so seriously.

 

A salesman came over to greet them as soon as he had determined that they were seriously looking and weren’t going to waste his time. “May I help you find something?”

 

“I’m looking for an engagement ring,” Wesley replied.

 

The man smiled and looked over at Buffy. “Of course. Is there something specific you were looking for?”

 

Wesley and Buffy got identical horror-struck expressions on their faces. “Oh, no,” Buffy said quickly. “I mean, we’re not—I’m just here to—”

 

“She’s my cousin,” Wesley lied smoothly. “She’s here for moral support.”

 

The man smiled. “Certainly. Well, perhaps I can pull something out for you to look at and you’ll see something that strikes your fancy.” He reached into the case to pull out a tray of gaudy rings.

 

“I don’t think so,” Buffy said decisively. “Nika isn’t the type to wear something that big. She’d probably want something unobtrusive.”

 

Wesley nodded. “Yes, of course, you’re right. Do you have anything like that?”

 

The man sighed, seeing a large sale go out the window. “Of course.”

 

They spent the next half hour looking at rings, either Buffy or Wesley rejecting each ring for some odd reason. While Buffy didn’t know Nika all that well, she had gotten a feel for the other woman, and had a pretty good idea of what she _wouldn’t_ like. Wesley, on the other hand, was shaking his head because they weren’t something she _would_ like.

 

The salesman was obviously getting  a little frustrated. “Perhaps you’d like to bring your fiancée in and she could pick out a ring herself.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “No, I’d like to do this.”

 

“May I ask what she does?”

 

“What she does?” Wesley repeated.

 

Buffy smiled. “He means what Nika does for a living.” Turning to the salesman, she said, “She’s a midwife and an EMT.”

 

A look of relief crossed the man’s face. “I have the perfect ring.”

 

Wesley glanced over at the Slayer, who shrugged. The man came out with a different tray and pulled out a simple gold band that had diamonds channel-set all the way around. “Medical personnel in general prefer a ring like this, or a simple band,” the man explained. “There’s nothing to catch on surgical gloves, so she will not be required to take it off on a regular basis.”

 

The ring was simple, but very pretty, and both Wesley and Buffy found themselves nodding. “That’s the one,” the ex-Watcher said with a sigh of relief. “It’s perfect.”

 

The purchase was made in a matter of minutes, and Buffy thought that the man might have made his relief to see the last of them a little less obvious, which she was quick to comment on as they left the store.

 

Wesley shrugged, patting the pocket where he’d stuck the black velvet box, happy just to be done. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed in thought. Wesley was in an amiable enough mood, she thought she might have a shot at getting him to do her a tiny little favor. “Would you do something for me, Wes?”

 

Wesley had been too well-trained as a Watcher to fall into that trap. Well, that and Cordelia had used the exact same tone of voice when she wanted something that he wasn’t going to be happy about giving her. “That would depend on what it is.”

 

“Do you have a vamp nest you need cleaned out, or a demon to kill, or something like that?”

 

Wesley was a little startled. “I thought you had retired.”

 

“I am,” Buffy replied stiffly. “That doesn’t mean I can’t slay as an extracurricular activity. I just thought if you had a job that needed doing, you could let me do it, and then you would be free to take Nika out. You know, I could give you a break.”

 

Wesley wasn’t completely dense—even if there were those who would argue with that assessment. “What about Spike?”

 

“Huh?” Buffy asked, as innocently as possible. “Oh, well, Spike could come too. It would be like old times.”

 

“I see,” Wesley said, keeping his voice as toneless as possible. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a date, perhaps?”

 

“A date?” Buffy asked. “Of course not. I mean, we’re just friends, and—” She stopped and sighed. “Fine, it’s a date, but I’d like it to be a surprise, you know?”

 

Wesley considered for a moment. He had received a call earlier that day about a vampire nest that needed to be cleaned out. The pay would be minimal, but he had the feeling that Buffy didn’t mind that. “There is a nest that I was planning to have Spike help me clean out,” he conceded. “I don’t see why you and he couldn’t go instead. But is it wise in your condition?”

 

“Fragile isn’t an adjective that goes with Slayer, Wesley,” Buffy reminded him sharply. “Not even a pregnant one, and not one who’s only a few months along.”

 

Wesley cleared his throat. “Of course. How silly of me to be concerned for your well-being.”

 

Buffy shot him a glare, which soon softened into a smile. “You know, I kind of like the sarcasm on you. It’s refreshing.”

 

“Indeed,” he replied. “Buffy, do you think taking Spike hunting is the best idea? Perhaps a nice dinner, or—”

 

“Spike?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Spike loves a good hunt.”

 

Wesley had to concede her point. “But if the two of you are starting over, maybe it’s time to create a new tradition.”

 

Buffy thought about the last “date” that had included a stakeout, and wondered if Wesley might not be right. On the other hand, Spike loved a good fight, and Buffy loved fighting with him. Well, not _with_ him anymore, but definitely by his side. “Maybe,” she replied, pulling her coat closer around her. “But not right now. I think we have to deal with the past first.”

 

Wesley nodded. “Then I’ll give you the address of the nest. If you feel up to it, you could do it tonight.”

 

“Sure thing,” Buffy said cheerfully, giving Wesley a sly look. “I think that ring is burning a hole in your pocket anyway.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike knew something was up when Wesley informed him that Buffy had volunteered to take over his spot on clearing out a nest. Spike probably could have handled it himself, but his partner was insistent about taking Buffy. “What’s this really about, mate?” Spike finally demanded after going around a few times. He was emotionally exhausted from his trip down memory lane earlier, and he really had no desire to see Buffy until he could get himself sorted out.

 

“I bought a ring today,” Wesley admitted in a low voice. They were down in the basement, and Nika was upstairs, but the walls were thin, and Wesley didn’t want to give his surprise away.

 

Understanding dawned, and Spike nodded, immediately backing off. “Right then,” he said. “I’ll take care of this nest with the Slayer, give you two some time to yourselves. Been a bit hectic ‘round here lately anyway.”

 

Wesley breathed a sigh, thankful that Spike could be quite accommodating when he wanted to be. “Thank you, Spike. I appreciate that. You’ll be fine going with Buffy then?”

 

Spike managed a smile. “Sure. Be just like old times.”

 

It was a little too much like old times for the vampire’s comfort. Of course, they were in Buffy’s Jeep instead of the Desoto, and the Slayer wasn’t impatient to be away, but Spike was getting an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. That sense was heightened when Buffy reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out a flask. He refused the drink regretfully. “Better not, luv. Should be sharp for this one.”

 

“Later then,” she insisted, waiting until he’d taken the silver flask from her hand and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

 

“Buffy—” Spike began.

 

She shook her head. “Later, Spike. I think now might be a really good time to clear that nest out.”

 

Spike watched as two more vampires showed up. That put the count up to ten, which was about as many as he wanted to handle with the Slayer, especially with her pregnant. “Let’s do this then.”

 

He hadn’t been in battle with the Slayer since long before he’d left Sunnydale. Other than the first few weeks that she’d been back, Buffy hadn’t wanted his company on patrol. He’d mostly just waited for her to come to him, or he had followed her around. It was amazing—it was like no time had passed, as if nothing had changed.

 

They were as perfectly synchronized as they had ever been, perhaps better, since they were both more concerned for their partner’s well-being than they had been in the past. Spike was concerned because the Slayer was carrying a child; Buffy was worried because Spike wasn’t a hundred percent with his leg.

 

So they fought side by side and back to back, keeping a tight orbit around each other when the ten vampires were dusted and an additional four had appeared from out of nowhere. When it was over, they were both covered in vamp dust and grinning from ear to ear.

 

Then Spike met Buffy’s eyes, and his grin faded. “Well, that was fun,” Buffy said cheerfully.

 

“That it was,” the vampire agreed, looking around to make sure they hadn’t left anyone unalive and that he wasn’t missing a stash of valuables.

 

“Spike?” Buffy waited until he turned to face her. “Why do you keep avoiding me?”

 

He blinked. “I’m not avoidin’ you, Slayer. I’m here, right?”

 

“You’re here because Wesley asked you to come,” Buffy pointed out. “And because I asked him to let me do this.”

 

Spike wouldn’t meet her eyes. “So, you’ve got me where you want me, Slayer. What do you want?”

 

“I—I don’t know,” Buffy faltered. “I guess I just wanted to get a chance to talk. I thought it would be, like, a date.” She trailed off. It wasn’t a bad idea, but their last “date” had ended rather disastrously. “Spike—”

 

He shook his head, moving towards the door. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, pet.”

 

“Spike, wait!” Buffy called. “Please, can we just talk?”

 

“Talk about what, Buffy?” he demanded. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

 

“You! You dumbass,” she cried. “I just want you.”

 

He stared at her, his expression a mixture of anguish and hope. “Until when? Until you get tired of me? Until I tell you somethin’ you don’t want to hear? I can’t do this again, Slayer. I can’t—”

 

Buffy watched as Spike broke off and turned his back to her. She could see him trembling from where she stood, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him. “This isn’t about me needing you to feel,” she said quietly. “It’s not about breaking up with Peter, or being pregnant, or even wanting a boyfriend. This is just about us.”

 

When Spike still wouldn’t look at her, Buffy knew it was time to pull out all the stops. “I love you.”

 

“Then why did you walk away?” he asked. “How the bloody hell are we goin’ to avoid killin’ each other when I’m not even sure what went wrong in the first place? Why, Slayer? Why did you show me your back, because I can’t survive another round of this.”

 

Buffy sighed. This was harder than she’d thought it was going to be. There was a large part of her that had believed that if only she could say those three magic words, all would be forgiven and they’d live happily ever after. She found a relatively clean crate and sat down. “I don’t know, Spike.” She stared at him. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry for what I did. I was wrong. I hated myself, and I hated you for loving me. I hated being alive. You want to know what’s different? Well, most of that no longer applies. I don’t hate myself, I don’t hate you, and I’m actually enjoying being alive.”

 

Spike was frozen with indecision. Enid had advised him to wait until Buffy came to him of her own accord, and here she was—her proverbial hand extended. If he didn’t risk it now, if he let her go again, wouldn’t that be just as bad as her not wanting to admit that there was anything between them?

 

He sat down gingerly beside her, the silence palpable. “I still love you, Buffy,” he admitted in a low voice. “Just don’t know if I can trust you.”

 

Buffy nodded, forcing back tears. “That’s fair. If I were you, I probably wouldn’t trust me either.”

 

“But I want to,” he said, looking over at her with quiet intensity. “I want to be able to trust you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“What do you want to do?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Spike looked amused. “About us,” he clarified. “Think we should take it slow, ease back into it like. I need some time—time to know…”

 

“That I’m not going to start treating you like shit again.” Buffy winced, knowing the truth behind that fear. It wasn’t Spike being paranoid.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I thought maybe, if you were hungry, we could get somethin’ to eat. Or go back to the house an’ get somethin’, maybe watch a movie.”

 

She smiled. “Like a date?”

 

“Like a continuation.” He brushed her hair back from her face, letting the silky strands fall over his fingers.

 

“Spike?”

 

“Yeah, luv?”

 

“I meant it, you know.” Buffy reached up and took his hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “I do love you. I just don’t know what that’s going to look like for us yet.”

 

He smiled, and then suddenly got a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “So you’re finally admitting there is an ‘us’, Slayer?”

 

“There’s always been an us,” Buffy said softly. She stood and held out a hand to pull him to his feet, noticing that he was still favoring his right leg. The Slayer frowned thoughtfully, plans for a pampering session in mind. She had a shot at this—they could make this work.

 

Spike took the Slayer’s offer of support and leaned in on her as they made their way back to the car. He felt more secure now, knowing what it was that she wanted. He felt a smile curve his lips. She wanted him.

 

He tightened his grip possessively. It seemed that they were finally seeing eye to eye.


	22. Late January 2006

Nika stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her hair. “How do I look?”

 

Enid gave a nod of approval. “You are exquisite, _cariad annwyl_. I have something for you.”

 

“What is it?” Nika turned to face her grandmother. The older woman held out a chain with a familiar pendant, and Nika pulled back slightly. “_Nain_, are you sure? That’s your amulet.”

 

“It is time,” Enid said calmly. “I will retire soon, and when I do, I will come here, to be near you.”

 

Nika smiled tremulously. “Thank you, _nain_.” She bent her head obediently. The amulet had been passed down through her family from generation to generation, always from the hand of one midwife to the next. Its value lay in its simple beauty, and the history behind its various bearers. She let her fingers play over the silver and onyx and turned to look in the mirror again. Its stark beauty was a fitting accent to her own dark hair, pale skin, and the black dress she wore.

 

“I am so very proud of you, _cariad_,” Enid whispered in Welsh. “So very proud.”

 

Nika smiled, meeting Enid’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m glad you like Wesley, _nain_. I knew you would, but—”

 

“Danny was a good boy,” Enid said stoutly. “Wesley is a solid man. There is depth there that will be a good match for yours. I think he would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy.”

 

“I think you might be right.” Nika gave the amulet a final pat and reached down for her purse. “So do you know where he’s taking me tonight?” Wesley had called her on her way home from work and told her to get dressed up, but he wouldn’t say where it was that they were going, only that it was a surprise.

 

It wasn’t that Nika was nervous about it; she trusted Wesley with her life. This was the first time he’d done something like this, however, and she had no idea what to expect.

 

“I have no idea what the boy is up to,” Enid said innocently, and Nika simply shook her head.

 

“Just like you have no idea what’s happening with Spike and Buffy,” Nika stated.

 

Enid snorted, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. “Am I their mother? Of course not. If I were a betting woman, I would say that young woman finally got her nerve up though.”

 

Nika smiled. “It’s about time. Spike’s been pining away for her since the day I met him.”

 

“Then perhaps you will get a happy ending, all of you,” Enid said gently.

 

Nika shrugged. “Happy endings are an oxymoron, _nain_. Endings are rarely anything of the sort.”

 

“Then I will not wish you a happy ending, but a joyful life, no?” Enid laid a wrinkled hand against her cheek. “I have always only wanted your happiness.”

 

“I know,” Nika replied. “I think I might manage it.” She stepped out of her bedroom to find Wesley waiting for her in a dark gray suit and blue shirt and darker blue tie. “Hello, Wesley.”

 

He stood, paralyzed a moment. “You look beautiful, my love.” Their lips met without thought, a gentle embrace with the promise of heat behind it. Wesley ran a hand through her hair. She’d left it down, and it dipped to her lower back.

 

“If you two don’t leave now, you’ll end up spending the evening in the bedroom,” Enid said from behind them, sounding amused. “And I had plans to catch up on my shows tonight.”

 

They both smiled rather sheepishly. “Of course,” Wesley said. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late for our reservations.” He shrugged into a greatcoat, and held Nika’s coat out for her, offering his arm.

 

“Have fun,” Enid called cheerfully, waiting until they had gone and sinking down on the couch with a satisfied sigh. She pulled out the pack of cigarettes that she’d nicked from Spike and lit one up. Turning on the TV, she put her feet up on the coffee table.

 

Finally, she’d gotten them all out of the house. As a woman who had lived on her own for the last decade, Enid valued her quiet. She would have her smoke without Nika chiding her about her health, she would have her drink, and she would have a few hours’ peace.

 

At least until one or the other pair came home and started shagging like crazy. Enid allowed herself a fond smile for the follies of youth, letting herself remember when she too was young and in love and bright with potential.

 

~~~~~

 

Nika found herself pleasantly surprised by the restaurant. Not that she doubted Wesley’s abilities in any arena, but he hadn’t shown this side of himself before. The candlelight, the muted elegance of the atmosphere, the food: all was very satisfactory.

 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Nika?” Wesley asked after a while.

 

She smiled in reply. “Of course. I always enjoy myself when I’m with you.”

 

He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit.”

 

“And you give yourself too little,” was her rejoinder. She frowned. “We’re not going to argue about this, are we?”

 

“Far be it from me to try and convince you of what a rogue I really am,” Wesley said with a small smirk.

 

Nika smirked in response. “I like rogues.”

 

“Now you tell me,” he teased. “I would have acted entirely different around you had I known you felt that way.”

 

She laughed. “So are you going to tell me why we’re here tonight?”

 

“Does there need to be a reason?” he countered.

 

Nika raised an eyebrow. “Wesly, _cariad_, you never do anything without a reason.”

 

Wesley considered her statement, finally having to agree that she was right. There was typically some reason backing up each and every thing that he did. “Then maybe my reason was simply to spend time alone with you.”

 

It was possible, but Nika wasn’t buying it for a second. “Out with it, love. What is the big secret?”

 

“No secret,” he replied, feeling unaccountably nervous. He had already proposed; Nika had already said yes. Her answer was not in doubt, but Wesley still wondered if she wouldn’t come to her senses and change her mind.

 

He fished around in his breast pocket and pulled out the small, black box. “I wanted to make this official,” he started. “Partly because your _nain_ is returning to Wales soon, and partly because I wanted everyone to know that you had agreed to be my wife.” Wesley opened the box slowly, grateful that his hands weren’t shaking too badly. “I would be honored if you would wear my ring, Danika.”

 

Nika was stunned. They hadn’t spoken about making their engagement official, nor had Wesley given her any indication that he planned on giving her a ring. She had expected that it would happen eventually, but it was still a surprise.

 

Not to mention the fact that the ring was perfect—exactly what she would have picked out for herself. “It’s beautiful,” she finally managed.

 

“May I put it on?” he asked.

 

Nika raised an eyebrow. “Do you even need to ask?”

 

Wesley smiled in reply, slipping the ring out of the box and onto her finger, then turning her hand over to place a gentle kiss on her palm. “And what shall I give you to tell the world that you are mine?” Nika asked softly. “For I am honored to be yours.”

 

“You have my heart, darling,” Wesley said softly. “I would not deny even my soul to you.”

 

An outside observer—Spike, for instance—would probably have been gagging at this point, but for Wesley and Nika the formal endearments seemed a natural outgrowth of their feelings for one another. The simple truth was that neither of them could ever remember being quite as happy as they were at that moment, and so they could be forgiven their sentimentality.

 

Indeed, the rest of the meal wasn’t much better. Casual observers couldn’t help but notice the couple, striking in their intensity and their obvious devotion to one another. More than one older couple found themselves looking at their partners in fond remembrance of a time when they had been so passionately in love. Wesley and Nika barely noticed; they might have been alone in the restaurant.

 

When they had fed the last bite of dessert to one another, Wesley stood smoothly. Gone was the klutziness that sometimes plagued him, the uncertainty that at times dominated his movements—tonight he was a god among men with such a woman on his arm. “Would you care to dance?”

 

“I would love to dance.” Nika placed her hand in his, following him through the tables to the dance floor. There was a string quartet playing in the background, and for a moment Wesley looked a bit self-conscious.

 

“I’m afraid I must warn you that I’m a very poor dancer.”

 

Nika merely gazed at him, and in her eyes he could tell that she had no doubts. “You have never danced with me.”

 

She was not just talking about waltzing, and Wesley smiled, accepting her challenge. “So very true.”

 

Wesley wasn’t quite as bad a dancer as he thought he was, at least not the formal kind. Those steps—the dances where there was a set pattern to the steps—he had learned as a part of his formal education. The Watchers’ Academy had been very big on formality.

 

In one another’s arms they found a contentment that had long been missing. “I could die a happy man,” Wesley murmured.

 

“Please don’t,” Nika replied quietly. “I have far too many plans for you.”

 

Wesley pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I have far too many plans for _us_.”

 

“Where will we be in ten years, _fy ngharid i_?” she asked. “Where do you see us?”

 

Nika felt him sigh against her. “Ah, sweetheart, a year ago I would have told you that ten years hence would find me in an early grave.” A tremor passed through her frame, and Wesley tightened his grip, continuing. “Now? Now I see us in a home, picket fence optional, with a child or two. Perhaps three,” he added as an afterthought. “I was an only child. I would like to have more than one.”

 

“I think I would be okay with that,” Nika replied, blinking back tears. “Though, maybe an even number would be better.”

 

Wesley chuckled. “Then we try for two with an option for an additional pair?”

 

Nika laughed. “Only if that’s what you want, Wesley. With one condition.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“That you grow old beside me.”

 

“If it is within my power, Danika,” he promised. “If I have my wish, I will be there until the day you breathe your last.”

 

They might have danced forever, but eventually the music ended, the musicians packing away their instruments. Neither of them were in a hurry to leave; Nika had her hand tucked in the crook of Wesley’s elbow, leaning against him as they walked. They were so completely engrossed in each other that it took something along the lines of a hydrogen bomb to intrude on their private bubble.

 

Interestingly enough, the Slayer was probably the only other person in the world that would have counted the presence of Angel as equal to an atomic blast—and the resultant crater.

 

“Wesley?” From her position on his arm, Nika could sense no increase in tension. Wesley’s sinewy forearm was as relaxed under her hand as it had been all evening, and she realized that a demon had finally been exorcised. She wondered if Angel had any idea.

 

Wesley turned slightly to face Angel and Cordelia who looked as though they were out for a night on the town. “What are you doing here?” Cordelia asked, when their identification was confirmed.

 

“We were celebrating,” Wesley replied with perfect calm.

 

Angel blinked, looking a bit surprised. “Did you just finish a case?”

 

Wesley and Nika’s eyes met, and they both looked amused. “Actually, no,” Nika said. “Wesley asked me to marry him.”

 

“You’re getting married?” The disbelief in Cordelia’s voice would have been insulting had Wesley not known her so well. As it was, Nika was insulted for him.

 

As though he could sense what she was thinking, Wesley’s hand slipped around her waist, giving her a subtle squeeze. Nika took the opportunity to show off her new ring, as all newly engaged women were wont to do. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked guilelessly. “Wesley picked it out himself.”

 

The pride in her voice had Wesley looking over at her with a love bordering on awe. Angel watched the exchange, watched as Cordelia obediently admired the ring, realizing with a pang that had he not run into the couple, he wouldn’t have known of Wesley’s engagement until Connor or Dawn informed him. The man he once would have called his best friend now seemed but a distant acquaintance. While he had never dreamed that Wesley would get married, he once would have been sure that he was the one who would have been best man at the wedding.

 

Angel somehow knew that Spike would have that honor now.

 

It was, perhaps, the first time Angel had truly assimilated his loss. He had taken the ex-Watcher’s devotion for granted. He had believed that Wesley would always be there, ready to lend a helping hand or his razor-sharp mind to solve a problem. Even after the attempted murder-by-pillow in the hospital three years before, Angel had believed that Wesley would remain a loyal follower, ready to jump to his aid at a moment’s notice.

 

He had been a fool, and he had lost his friend. Cordelia had been right when she had encouraged him to reconcile with Wes. Angel had believed he had all the time in the world when it had already slipped out of his grasp.

 

 “Congratulations to both of you,” Angel managed to say when he realized that the others were waiting for his response. “I hope both of you will be very happy together.”

 

Wesley nodded, the knowledge of their friendship’s passing present in his eyes. He’d known it was over for a long time now, but he’d had yet to acknowledge it. In this moment, his contentment was enough to drown out any lingering sorrow. It had been nice while it lasted, but he had everything he might have ever wanted in Nika and Spike and any others that might drift into their circle.

 

“We should go,” Wesley said. “It’s late.”

 

Nika nodded. “We’ll be sure to send you an invitation when we’re sure of the date.”

 

“That would be great,” Cordelia replied. “It was good to see both of you again.”

 

Everyone present knew that she was lying through her teeth to a certain extent. It was a polite fiction—they were all too uncomfortable around one another to truly appreciate a run-in.

 

“Likewise,” Wesley said politely, and then he and Nika ambled away, quickly becoming lost in their own world again.

 

Angel watched their retreating forms, finally murmuring, “I never meant—”

 

“No,” Cordelia agreed, knowing what he meant. None of them had meant for things to end that way. No one had suspected their tight circle might be disrupted, short of someone dying. “But it’s done, Angel.”

 

~~~~~

 

They were quiet on the drive home. Nika sat in the passenger’s seat, content to allow Wesley to drive. “Are you alright, _cariad_?” she asked after a while.

 

“Of course,” he replied, the touch of surprise in his tone giving his answer authenticity. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Perhaps because you’re usually a bit upset when you see Angel,” Nika suggested gently.

 

Wesley’s brow furrowed as he considered the truth of her statement. “I suppose that might be accurate,” he admitted. “But not tonight. I suppose I’m too happy to be upset.”

 

Pleasure curled Nika’s lips, knowing that she was responsible for his imperturbable mood—at least in part. “Then you are content?”

 

It was actually a more potent question than “Are you happy?” Happiness came and went, depending on the circumstances; contentment was a more abiding state, deeper than mere happiness. “More than I ever thought possible,” Wesley assured her. “At one point, I would have said that I was happy. Being with you has taught me otherwise. I did not know true joy until I knew you, my love.”

 

They were still riding the high of the evening, still reveling in the general sappiness that comes from being in love. She smiled, recognizing the sentimentality for what it was and enjoying it. “Why, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. You’re a romantic. I never would have guessed.”

 

“I do my humble best.” Wesley paused. “I think I finally have been able to forgive myself, and it doesn’t matter quite so much if Angel does. As Spike might say, I’ve finally been able to say screw ‘em and believe it.”

 

Nika nodded. “Then you have moved on.”

 

“In a sense,” Wesley agreed. “More than that—I have been able to accept that I am in a different place now. It was not what I might have hoped for because I didn’t know what to hope for. Or, rather, I didn’t know to hope for this.”

 

“I didn’t either,” Nika said softly. “I never knew being with anyone could be like this.”

 

Wesley glanced over at her. “I don’t—”

 

“I loved Danny,” she replied to his unspoken question. “I love you, and the loss of my first love makes this new love even stronger, wiser. I know what I could lose, and so I know what it is that I have gained.”

 

“Because each day might be your last, it is all that much more important to enjoy it,” Wesley said softly, repeating Nika’s motto from so long ago.

 

“Yes.”

 

Wesley was quiet, simply enjoying her presence, the movement of driving. “I was thinking about getting a car,” he said, out of the blue.

 

“You’re not going to get rid of your bike, are you?” Nika asked, sounding rather unenthusiastic about the idea.

 

Wesley smiled. “I sometimes think you like the bike as much or more than I do.”

 

“I like going for rides with you,” she said, sounding a little plaintive.

 

Wesley smiled, thinking about the last ride they’d taken, and the rather heated make-out session that followed. “I have no desire to get rid of the motorcycle,” he said. “On the other hand, I do think that we would benefit from having another vehicle, especially for Spike and I to take out on jobs. It may become necessary at some point to have a different mode of transportation. Perhaps an SUV,” he mused.

 

“Why on earth would you want a monster like that?”  Nika asked.

 

Wesley gave her a half shrug. “There would be more room to carry things.”

 

“Things like children?” Nika asked coyly.

 

“Perhaps,” he teased. “Though I must warn you, I will be dead before I drive a minivan.”

 

~~~~~

 

Angel was sitting in the dark when Connor came back in from his date with Dawn. They had gone out to a club with a number of her friends, and she had taught him to dance. Well, she’d tried, at least, but as graceful as he was in battle, it didn’t seem to translate to dancing. Even so, he was in a great mood. Their six month anniversary was coming up, and Dawn had all but promised him a night of passion. They had taken it slow up to this point, but it looked like his girlfriend was finally ready for the next step.

 

Connor sighed when he saw his father in his office in full-on brood mode. When Angel had that look on his face, there were only two ways to deal with him—ignore him completely or kick his ass out of it.

 

Ignoring him seemed like the better idea, so Connor started to head up the stairs. “Connor?”

 

He sighed. “Yeah, Dad?”

 

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

 

Connor wandered into the office. “Sure. Dawn taught me how to dance.”

 

“How did that go?”

 

Connor shrugged. “Didn’t suck.” He sat down in the chair across from Angel. “Is there any particular reason you’re sitting in the dark, or do you just like it tonight?”

 

Angel sighed. “Did you know Wesley was getting married?”

 

“I kind of suspected it might happen sooner or later,” Connor admitted. “Why? Did you see him?”

 

“Tonight,” Angel said. “Cordy and I went out and we ran into the both of them. They looked happy.”

 

“I think they are,” Connor said. “I guess they’re about as happy as anybody can be, you know.”

 

Angel was quiet for a minute. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

 

“Why would you think he would, Dad?” Connor asked. “You let him go.”

 

“Connor, you—”

 

He stared at his father. “It was back a long time ago. If you’d wanted Wesley to come back, if you’d wanted to forgive him, you should have said something to him. He has his own life now. He had to make his own life.”

 

“With Nika,” Angel said quietly.

 

Connor shrugged. “And Spike. He’s pretty okay for a vampire.”

 

“He’s evil,” Angel replied, sounding very close to a pout.

 

Connor gave Angel a dirty look. “It’s not what someone is, it’s what they do, Dad. You and Cordy taught me that. So did Dawn and Spike, not to mention Wesley. You taught me that it’s okay to make mistakes as long as you learn from them. I figure if you can forgive me for trying to send you to the bottom of the ocean, and you can forgive Buffy for sending you to hell for a while, then you can get over Wesley doing what he did, because he did it for all the right reasons. Maybe you’ll get that eventually, but for right now I think you pretty much just have to accept that you’re not in Wesley’s life, and he doesn’t want you in his. Maybe it’ll take him some time to forgive you.”

 

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive me for what?”

 

“For leaving.” Connor looked suddenly much older than his years. “And for giving up. You shouldn’t give up on people, Dad.”

 

“Who did you learn that from?”

 

Connor suddenly looked smug, and very much like his mother. “I figured that one out for myself.”

 

~~~~~

 

They retreated to Nika’s bedroom as soon as they got back to the house. “I’m going to have to clean out a drawer for you.”

 

Wesley tugged his tie off. “Is a drawer important?”

 

“Of course,” Nika said with a smile. “It’s for you to stay the night so you don’t have to go back and forth to your apartment every day.”

“But I’m not moving in yet.” It was more of a statement than a question, and he looked slightly amused at the distinction.

 

“Not yet,” she agreed. “We can make it official after—”

 

“We make it official?” Wesley asked, completing her thought. The tenor of his voice changed subtly, causing Nika’s head to snap towards him. He’d tossed the suit jacket carelessly over the small wooden chair that sat by her bed. His shirt and tie both lay on top, and he was proceeding to tug off his t-shirt. Nika’s mouth went dry when she saw the look in his blue eyes.

 

He looked—predatory.

 

“Tonight, this is about you,” he murmured, coming close, bringing his head down to kiss her. His lips were more forceful than they had been before, and she was suddenly quite sure that she was going to be taken for a wild ride. Pun intended.

 

Wesley’s hands were as skillful as his lips, and Nika found herself divested of her dress rather quickly. She felt out of control and well taken care of, all at the same time. Where their first time making love had been her trying to reassure him, tonight Wesley was in charge and doing his best to satisfy her.

 

Nika ended up very satisfied indeed.

 

When they lay, sticky and sated, Wesley smiled as his fiancée laid her head on his shoulder. “I really hope Spike’s not home,” she murmured.

 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Why not, love?”

 

“Because if he is here, he definitely heard me.”

 

Wesley got a self-satisfied smile. “Sweetheart, it wouldn’t take a vampire to hear you. I’m fairly certain that we woke _nain_.”

 

Nika groaned, though the sound held more than a hint of pleasure. “She’ll be the most horrible tease tomorrow.”

 

“Was it worth it?” he asked, somewhat facetiously.

 

“Worth it?” Nika lifted her head to stare at him incredulously. “It would be worth a thousand scoldings, let alone a little teasing.” She sank back down and cuddled up next to him. Wesley relished her weight against his shoulder, the feeling of her arm flung over his waist, her legs entangled with his. “I can’t help but be glad that Angel is an idiot,” she murmured. “Otherwise I never would have found you.”

 

Wesley smiled. Fate was a tricky thing. He thought perhaps that they would have found one another anyway, but he couldn’t help but agree with her. “I love you, Danika.”

 

Her murmured reply in kind followed him down into his dreams, and they were sweet dreams indeed.


	23. September 2003

Wesley picked up the phone on the fourth ring, just before the answering machine activated. “Hello?”

 

“Wesley? It’s Nika.”

 

The ex-Watcher blinked. He’d known both Spike and Nika for several months now, but Nika had never called him at his apartment. Normally, he either called Spike or simply showed up whenever he needed the vampire’s help. “Is something wrong?”

 

“You might say that,” Nika replied cryptically. “Are you busy tonight?”

 

Wesley somehow doubted she was asking him on a date. “No, I didn’t have any plans.”

 

“Then would you mind coming over and getting Spike?”

 

It was an odd turn of phrase, almost as though she were asking him to baby-sit a child, which hardly described the vampire. “Getting him…?” Wesley paused. “Are you sure this isn’t an emergency?” He rather wanted to know whether he should come over to the house guns blazing (literally speaking), or if it were less urgent than that.

 

“It’s not an emergency,” she assured him. “But Spike shouldn’t be alone tonight, and I have to be at work in an hour. I think it would be better if he stayed with you.”

 

Well, it was a bit odd, but Wesley had no reason to say no. While he wouldn’t call his relationship with the vampire a close one, by this point they had both saved each other’s life several times. They might not talk about it, but there was a strong sense of loyalty building in their relationship. “Give me thirty minutes,” he said, and then hung up.

 

It actually took him twenty minutes. Wesley pulled his bike up into Nika’s driveway next to Spike’s. She met him at the door, opening it before he could knock. Obviously, she’d been waiting for him, and Wesley’s level of curiosity ratcheted up another notch.

 

“He’s in the basement,” she said quietly, stepping out onto the porch. She was dressed in the dark blue uniform of a paramedic, her brown hair braided and hanging in a thick tail down her back. Wesley thought she looked more severe, more remote than he remembered her being before. Although, it might have simply been the deep circles under her eyes. “I guess—this has something to do with Buffy. Something about the time of year she returned?”

 

Wesley suddenly understood. “Buffy was dead. Her friends brought her back.” He did remember that much, at least. It had been early fall when Buffy or one of her friends had called and Angel had gone to meet her.

 

Nika raised an eyebrow. She didn’t know what it said about her life that resurrection didn’t seem too unbelievable. “He came back completely wasted last night, and pretty beat up. I—” Nika fell silent, not knowing how much she should tell the man about Spike’s state of mind. “I think he might do something he’ll regret if he’s left to himself.”

 

Wesley nodded. “He can stay with me tonight. Anniversaries—” He paused. “Anniversaries can be difficult.” Blue eyes met gray, and they exchanged a look of understanding. They both had dates that were hard to remember and impossible to forget.

 

She nodded in relief. “I’ll go get him.”

 

Stepping into the front hall to wait, Wesley leaned up against the wall. He found his current situation interesting, to say the least. He never would have believed that he would find himself in the position of having to take care of a soulless vampire, that was for certain. He wouldn’t say that he minded; it was merely—different.

 

Nika came back out into the hallway, followed closely by Spike. The vampire, who was normally cheerful and cocky to the point of annoyance, was the picture of dejection. Wesley noticed that Spike didn’t look up or meet Nika’s eyes, even when she tried to catch his attention. Wesley shot her a questioning look, but she shook her head, silently signaling that it wasn’t the time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Spike,” she said, making it sound much more like a statement than a question.

 

The ghost of a smile passed over the vampire’s lips. “Yeah, luv. I’ll see you.”

 

Nika shot Wesley a meaningful glance as they left, though what she was trying to communicate, he had no idea. “I need to kill somethin’,” Spike announced as they approached their bikes.

 

Wesley frowned, trying to think if he knew of a place they could go where they would be guaranteed to run into something nasty. “We could go to the warehouse district. There’s usually a nest or two.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

Wesley had a hard time keeping up with the vampire as Spike weaved in and out of traffic. He was a blur of black—black bike, black helmet, black leather. The ex-Watcher gritted his teeth and kept up his speed, hoping that neither of them got pulled over for breaking the traffic laws. Based on Nika’s concern and Spike’s mood, he feared for anyone brave enough to attempt to stop him.

 

Wesley finally lost the vampire when forced to stop at a red light. Pushing up the faceplate on his helmet, he sighed, waiting for the light to change. There was still a good chance that he could catch up—Spike liked particular areas of the warehouse district better than others, saying they were more conducive to the breeding of vermin. Wesley just hoped that Spike didn’t end up getting himself into more trouble than he could handle. As reckless as the vampire could be, it was entirely possible that he could get himself dusted before Wesley even arrived.

 

Sure enough, Spike’s motorcycle was parked outside one of the empty warehouses that often housed a nest. Wesley knew that in addition to their own for-pay adventures, Spike went out hunting on his own. He had often wondered if it didn’t have something to do with Spike’s decision not to feed on humans, if his almost-nightly spot of violence was the only thing that kept the bloodlust at bay.

 

Wesley pulled up next to Spike’s ride. He had no idea if Spike had spotted any activity, but he pulled the short ax and a stake from his saddlebags—yet another reason he had no desire to get pulled over by the authorities.

 

Heaving a sigh, Wesley breathed out a quick prayer to whatever power that watched out for wayward vampires and ex-Watchers. If Spike managed to get himself dusted, Nika would never forgive him.

 

Upon entering the warehouse, he realized that Spike had indeed found a nest and that the vampire was well on his way to taking care of it. In fact, the look on Spike’s face was so manic that Wesley simply found a crate to sit on and watched the action unfold.

 

Spike was a whirlwind of destruction, moving with a fluidity and grace that was a pleasure to view. When all the vampires were dust, Wesley stood. “Will that be enough for the evening, or do we need to find a demon bar and pick a fight?”

 

Spike snarled wordlessly, turning with mindless ferocity, brushing past Wesley and heading out the door. Wesley considered not following for a moment, but then discarded the idea. It was suddenly quite important that Spike didn’t get himself killed. After all, Wesley didn’t know that many people who were actually speaking to him that he could afford to lose one.

 

The vampire had apparently gone on foot, as his bike was still parked out front, and so he followed the sounds of fists on demon flesh. Wesley watched as Spike took out his fury on a rather large demon of indeterminate breeding. It appeared to be a Kashalk demon, but Spike had done enough damage to make the identification difficult.

 

When the demon finally lay dead in the alley, Spike stood over the body panting unnecessarily. “Spike?” Wesley approached hesitantly, wondering if Spike would turn on him. He moved quickly when he saw that Spike’s leg wasn’t up to supporting him. Blood dripped down his chin from his nose, and there was a rip in his right leg of his jeans that displayed a nasty gash. “Can you make it back to my place?”

 

Spike wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

 

“Let’s go then.”

 

The trip to his apartment was more sedate, Spike following him rather than the other way around. Wesley made sure to follow all the traffic laws—he thought he might set a good example. He watched as Spike limped into his apartment, shutting the door behind them. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll see if I can find something for your leg.”

 

“Vampire here,” Spike all but growled. “Doesn’t matter.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” Wesley said, ignoring him. He came back a few minutes later with a first aid kit and two bottles of beer straight from the pantry.

 

“Ta,” Spike muttered, taking the proffered bottle and stretching out his leg in front of him without being asked.

 

“Would you like to tell me what that was all about?” Wesley asked quietly, ripping the jeans a little further to get better access to the wound. Spike didn’t answer immediately, so he amended his question. “Why was Danika so worried? Did you two have a fight?”

 

“No, she just heard somethin’ she didn’t want to hear,” Spike replied sullenly. He took a pull on his bottle and watched Wesley’s movements disinterestedly. “Came home pissed an’ said some things I shouldn’t’ve.”

 

“I see.” Wesley actually didn’t—see, that is. The situation had seemed a little more serious than Spike simply mouthing off when he was drunk. After all, Spike hardly needed alcohol in his system to say something he was going to regret. “What did you say?”

 

Spike looked away. “Told her I almost ate someone last night.”

 

Wesley managed to hide any alarm caused by his blunt statement. “Any particular reason?”

 

“Didn’t like the look of ‘im,” Spike said, a sort of grim satisfaction in his voice at seeing the pulse jump in Wesley’s throat. “Doesn’t matter, since I didn’t bloody well touch the bastard.”

 

“Any particular reason you felt tempted last night and not any other night?”

 

Spike pulled away from Wesley’s finishing touches on the bandage. “I was hungry, okay? An’ besides, what’s the bloody point? Why shouldn’t I eat people? ‘s what I do! ‘m a vampire!”

 

Wesley calmly sat down in his arm chair, fixing Spike with an imperturbable gaze. “Do you want to feed from me?” he asked.

 

“No!” Spike said angrily, then there was a flash of emotion in his eyes that Wesley had a difficult time interpreting. The vampire sank down lower on the couch. “Bloody hell, yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

Wesley knew he probably should have been afraid. Perhaps he should have grabbed a weapon and forced Spike out the door of his apartment, done the spell blocking his re-entrance. It was then that he realized how far he’d fallen from the Watcher’s Code. It was one thing to work for a vampire with a soul who was searching for redemption. It was another thing entirely to work with a soulless, unchipped bloodsucker who didn’t seem to feel any particular guilt over his past crimes. If his father knew the state of things, Wesley knew he wouldn’t limit himself to vicious criticism. Rather, Roger Wyndam-Pryce would most likely disinherit him and then refuse to speak to his only son again.

 

He considered that thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let his father know he was working with William the Bloody. Perhaps the old man would do him a favor and die of apoplexy.

 

Shaking off his morbid thoughts, Wesley turned his attention back on Spike, suddenly understanding the tension between him and Nika. “And Nika? Do you have a desire to feed from her?”

 

“’m a vampire, mate,” Spike said bitterly. “I want to suck the world dry.”

 

“Then why don’t you?” Wesley asked, deliberately tilting his head to the side to give Spike a good look at his bare neck. “You could, you know. I doubt I could stop you.” Wesley did have the good sense to wonder if he hadn’t picked up a death wish somewhere. He could hardly believe that he was offering Spike his neck, and tried to decide whether or not he really cared whether or not Spike drained him.

 

He decided he probably didn’t care nearly as much as he should.

 

Spike looked at him incredulously. “What are you? Suicidal?”

 

“Maybe I am,” Wesley admitted. “In any case, it doesn’t really matter. You’re right. You are a vampire, and vampires by definition kill humans. So why don’t you start with me?”

 

“You wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if you were dead, mate,” Spike replied with dark humor. “’sides, I want to taste you because ‘m hungry, not because I really want to kill you.”

 

Now that Spike was talking about it, Wesley decided to give free rein to his curiosity. He’d been wondering for a while now why it was that Spike didn’t need a soul to restrain his bloodlust, whereas Angel would most assuredly turn into a vicious killer the moment he lost his again. “What keeps you from killing everyone around you?”

 

Spike shrugged and took another pull on his beer. “Dunno. Just don’t see humans that way anymore, I guess.”

 

“When was the last time you fed?”

 

“You mean other than from Nika?” Spike asked, knowing that Wesley had heard the story. “Uh, ‘bout two or three years ago.” He frowned, remembering the painful circumstances around that little event. He had the same burning pain in his gut now as he had then. “I’d just told Buffy how I felt, right? An’ she shot me down—brutally, I might add. Not even the ‘let’s be friends’ speech.”

 

Wesley winced in sympathy. He’d had his own share of rejection. “I thought you had the chip then.”

 

“Did,” Spike said briefly. “Dru showed up about that time, an’ she said I didn’t have to worry ‘bout the chip. I could ignore it. An’ then we went out an’ she killed for me.”

 

“What happened then?” Wesley was more than a little intrigued. He’d never spoken to Angel about his bloodlust before, what it took for him not to feed on humans. Wesley had simply assumed from the vampire’s demeanor that such questions weren’t acceptable. Their relationship had always been one that was too much that of superior to employee to allow for such an exchange, and Angel hadn’t really liked to acknowledge his state of mind anyway.

 

“I drank,” Spike said shortly. “She was dead.” There was a long silence. “I didn’t want to, though. I did, but I didn’t. Does that make any sense at all?” he asked plaintively.

 

Wesley looked at the other man with a great deal of compassion. “Yes. It makes a great deal of sense, Spike.”

 

“You ever love someone who didn’t love you back?” Spike asked. “Or who loved someone else?”

 

Wesley smiled in a pained manner. “It seems to be a curse of mine.”

 

“What was her name?” Spike asked, wanting to know. They hadn’t asked many personal questions; knowing the bare bones of the other’s story had been enough. It was different now, though. Spike needed to know how you loved and lost and didn’t end up destroying everything else in your pain.

 

“Fred.” At Spike’s look of surprise, he clarified. “Her name is Winifred Burkle.”

 

Spike watched him, seeking a hint as to how Wesley had managed. “What happened to her?”

 

“She fell in love with my best friend.”

 

The vampire winced in sympathy. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing,” Wesley said softly. “There was nothing I could do.” He let the silence ride, and then asked again, “What happened, Spike?”

 

“Got a letter from Dawn,” Spike said in a low voice. “She was talkin’ ‘bout Buffy’s new boyfriend. Seems she hasn’t asked about me yet. She didn’t even care that I left town.”

 

Wesley nodded. “Is that why you wanted to eat someone?”

 

“What’s the point?” Spike muttered disconsolately. “If she’s never even gonna know that I got the chip out and can still control myself, then what’s the point of it all anyway?”

 

“Perhaps it has nothing to do with Buffy,” Wesley suggested. “Perhaps it has more to do with you.” When Spike looked up, startled, he continued. “I believe that if you’ve made it this far, there’s no point in going back, Spike. If you should want to, however, I think it might be wise to start with me. I don’t particularly want to have to kill you.” He left unspoken the fact that he had already lost enough friends.

 

Spike stared at the other man. “Why do you treat me like a man?”

 

“Because you act like one.”

 

Wesley watched as Spike swallowed and then took a deep breath. He marveled at his humanity. Although Angel hadn’t wanted to talk about his nature but had seemed to continually remind everyone of what he was, Spike was different. Half the time Wesley didn’t even remember that his partner was a vampire. “Right,” Spike finally managed.

 

Wesley decided it was time to change the subject. “Do you know how to play _Risk_?”

 

Spike blinked, then frowned. “That the game where you’re strivin’ for world domination?” At Wesley’s nod, Spike smirked. “Look who you’re talkin’ to, mate. Think I wouldn’t know how to play a game that was all about takin’ over as much territory as you can?”

 

“How silly of me,” Wesley said dryly. “Would you like to play?” He hadn’t pulled the game out since he and Gunn had played it at Cordelia’s apartment. It had been a very long time since he’d felt like playing any games at all.

 

Spike regarded him intently, finally nodding slowly. “Yeah, let’s play then. Better than thinkin’ about what ‘m not doin’ tonight.”

 

~~~~~

 

The apartment was quiet, but Spike could hear Wesley’s slow, steady breathing. He stood in the doorway of the other man’s bedroom, watching the still figure on the bed. Wesley had done alright by him, Spike had to admit. So had Nika, for that matter. He’d expected either or both of them to get on his case for coming as close as he had to killing again. Never mind that the man had been an arsehole of the highest caliber; Spike knew that it would have been a move in the wrong direction to give into the temptation.

 

The desire to feed, to kill, to throw it all to the wind had been so strong, though. The time of year had something to do with it, of course. Two years ago he had stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched Buffy descend with a feeling of awe and wonder. She had returned, and if he’d had a thrice-cursed soul, he’d have lost it right then.

 

Spike wished that Buffy had stayed in her grave.

 

He turned away from his contemplation of Wesley’s sleeping form, returning to the couch and settling down. It had just hit him when he’d gotten Dawn’s letter that it was all over. Any hope that he might have had that Buffy would eventually ask after him, that she would care to know what had become of him, had been lost. Nika had given him hope that he could live without her. She had given him a glimpse of what a real relationship might look like.

 

That didn’t mean he’d given up all hope of someday having a real relationship with Buffy.

 

If she had stayed in her coffin, his hope would have remained buried with her. Spike never would have thought that anything could become of his love, as she was, after all, dead. After that kiss at the back of the Bronze with the music, after he’d thought they might be able to make something of their relationship, to lose her—

 

Spike buried his face in his pillow. He’d never wanted to let her go. Screwing his eyes shut, he forced himself to remember why he had left, why he refused to go back. He thought about the way Nika and Wesley had always treated him, then compared it to the way Buffy and her super-friends had acted.

 

Then, at last, he let go of any hope that had remained long past its expiration date.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy was cleaning when she found it. Peter was coming over, and as it would be his first impression of her abilities as a housekeeper, she wanted it to be a good one. Since first-time guests got the grand tour, he’d end up seeing Dawn’s room too, and Buffy just thought she’d straighten up.

 

She certainly had never thought to discover his coat.

 

“What are you doing?” Dawn’s voice was icy.

 

Buffy dropped the leather duster as though it had burned her. “I—Peter is coming over tonight. I wanted to clean things up.”

“Next time ask me to do it,” Dawn replied haughtily. “You don’t have any right to go through my things.”

 

“I wasn’t going through your things!” Buffy protested vehemently. “It was sitting right there in your closet.”

 

“Yeah, so?” Dawn challenged. “Sometimes I like to wear it.”

 

Buffy stared at her sister, feeling strangely violated, as though Dawn hadn’t any right to that coat. If anyone had the right to keep it, it would be her. She had been—“How did you get it, Dawn?”

 

“It’s none of your business, _Buffy_,” Dawn said, her voice hard. She sounded like a very pissed off woman, and not like the girl that she was. “Besides, you didn’t ask the right question.”

 

Suddenly Buffy wanted very badly to know what her sister knew about Spike’s disappearance. She wanted to know where he was and what he was doing and if he was ever coming back. Most days she could convince herself that she didn’t care, but right then she cared very much. It didn’t matter that a new guy was coming over for the first time, or that she hadn’t asked about Spike’s whereabouts before.

 

Buffy opened her mouth to ask the question, and then snapped it shut again. No. He was gone. That was all that mattered. Good riddance to bad rubbish. That was what Xander had said when he realized Spike was gone and (hopefully) wasn’t coming back, and her friend had been correct. One less vampire to worry about, right? She’d slept with him, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she might wonder about him, but that was it. She didn’t have to act on it.

 

Dawn watched the play of emotions over her sister’s expressive face, and she knew exactly when Buffy had decided not to ask the question. The Slayer picked up the coat handed it back to her stiffly. “Peter will be here in about an hour.”

 

“I won’t be,” Dawn replied coolly. “I’m going out with some friends tonight.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Dawn, it wouldn’t hurt you to be friendly.”

 

“No, actually, it would probably kill me,” Dawn said snidely. “I didn’t get the memo that said I have to be nice to your boyfriends, Buffy. Besides, Peter’s a jerk.”

 

“He is not!” Buffy replied heatedly. “Fine. Look, if you don’t want to be here, don’t be here, then. You’ve got a curfew, though.” She turned on her heel and stomped out the door.

 

Dawn sank down on her bed, the duster cradled in her arms. Resolutely, she stood, shaking out the coat and hanging it carefully in her closet. “I miss you, Spike,” she whispered as though the vampire might suddenly appear, filling out the leather duster. “I wish you were here.”

 

And then she shut the closet door.


	24. February 2006

Wesley hefted another box and reminded himself that he was present as Spike’s proxy and not to punch Xander in the nose, no matter how tempted he might be. He passed Nika as he went inside, and she leaned in close to him. “If that boy makes one more comment about the ‘Evil Undead,’ I’m going to do something he’ll regret.”

 

He bit back a chuckle. “But you wouldn’t regret it?”

 

Nika raised an eyebrow. “No, I can honestly say I wouldn’t.” She shot the box he held a look. “Better get that inside before you drop it, _cariad_.”

 

Wesley walked inside, heading towards the kitchen since that was the label on the box. It had been pretty quiet the last couple of weeks. Enid had departed for Wales shortly after he and Nika had made their engagement official. She’d taken an evening flight, so they had all gone to take her to the airport.

 

They’d put the farewells off for as long as possible, but finally it was time to say goodbye at the security check. Of all of them, Enid had probably been the one with the most composure. Even Spike’s eyes had looked suspiciously moist.

 

“_Nain,_” Nika had murmured as her grandmother enveloped her in her arms.

 

“Danika,” Enid replied. In Welsh, she’d spoken in the younger woman’s ear. “You take care of that man of yours, _cariad_, and you let him take care of you too. I’m so proud of you.”

 

“_Dw i’n dy garu di_,” Nika said, tears choking her voice. “I love you.”

 

Enid patted her on the cheek, and then gave her a kiss. It was Wesley’s turn next, and Enid pulled him down for a hug, his lean form dwarfing her diminutive frame. “You’re a good man, Wesley. You take care of her, you hear?”

 

“Always,” he replied, smiling at her fondly. “Hurry back, _nain_.”

 

She smiled in return, kissing him on both cheeks. She looked over at Spike, who was hanging back slightly from the others. “William.” She pulled him into a hug as well, whispering in a low voice so the others would not hear. “You go after that Slayer of yours and—” She offered a suggestion that would have had Spike turning bright red had he still been able to blush.

 

“_Nain_!” he protested, a delighted grin spreading out over his face. “’ve been a terrible influence on you!”

 

“Nonsense,” she replied with a small smile. “I think you’ll find it’s a bit of the other way around. You take care of her, William. She needs a good man.”

 

Spike’s expression turned sheepish, and he gave her a shy peck on the cheek. “You’re a bit of alright, luv.”

 

“You’re not so bad yourself, William,” she returned. There was one last hug for Wesley and Nika, and then she disappeared into the crowd.

 

They all missed her, of course. Enid had filled a place in their hearts that had been empty for a long time for all of them. As Nika had said soon after she left, “You never know how much you need a mother until she’s gone.” In Wesley’s case, at least, he hadn’t known how much he needed a mother until he had one. He hadn’t known that kind of warmth ever before, and its sudden absence was painful.

 

Life went on, however, and they had settled back down into their respective routines. Nika had begun working more hours as a paramedic, taking a friend’s place while she was on maternity leave. Spike was much more relaxed and less broody than he had been about his relationship with Buffy, and the Slayer’s house had sold much faster than anyone had expected.

 

So now it was moving day, and Spike had sent Nika and Wesley in his place to help, at least until after dark. As Buffy hadn’t had the opportunity to get window coverings yet, the vampire couldn’t help until the sun went down.

 

Wesley headed out for another box, doing his best to ignore Xander. The younger man had apparently found out about Spike and Buffy’s burgeoning relationship, and he was making frequent loud comments on the danger of vampires and rogue Watchers. So far Wesley had been able to bite his tongue, but his restraint wasn’t going to hold out for much longer. “I would just think someone who’s been trained to kill vampires wouldn’t be working for one,” Xander said as Wesley passed.

 

Willow grabbed his arm and tugged him out the door before he could say anything. “Just ignore him,” she advised wisely. “I know he’s being stupid, but he’s just upset that Buffy decided to move to L.A. instead of staying in Sunnydale.”

 

“I suppose I can understand that,” Wesley said carefully. “What are your plans, Willow?” He had found over the course of several hours of moving boxes that he quite liked the young witch. Wesley remembered her being an engaging young girl, but he was more than impressed with the mature, centered woman in front of him.

 

“I start teaching at the high school next fall,” Willow replied. “But until then I’m just doing some free-lance computer work and getting the Sunnydale coven off the ground. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

 

Wesley was a little surprised. “I’m hardly qualified to become part of a coven.”

 

“No,” she replied, sounding amused. “But you have a lot of connections here in L.A. I was hoping you could direct me to some reputable people in the area, suppliers, that sort of thing. Plus, both Buffy and Dawn seem to think you’re a walking occult encyclopedia.”

 

Wesley blinked, feeling absurdly honored. “I’d be happy to give you any help you need,” he said sincerely.

 

“Great!” Willow replied enthusiastically. “It will be nice to have a connection here in L.A., other than Buffy, and to know that she’s got people looking out for her.” At Wesley’s expression, the witch hastened to clarify. “I know that Spike will take care of her, but you can fight with your significant other, you know, and then it’s nice to have someone else around.”

 

Wesley supposed that was true, although he and Nika had yet to have their first fight. They’d had a few disagreements over little things, but they were well-enough matched that they hadn’t blown up. Wesley couldn’t help but hope they never would, although it was probably inevitable.

 

“Hey, Wesley!” Connor came outside. “I’ve been looking for you.”

 

Willow gave him a parting smile and then went to get another box. “Something I can help you with, Connor?”

 

The boy shrugged. “It’s not real important, but I’m finishing up my entrance essays for UCLA, and I was hoping you’d look over them for me.”

 

Wesley nodded. He’d been a bit surprised that only Connor was present out of Angel’s gang. He’d thought that Gunn or Fred might show up, but he had to admit that he was relieved when they didn’t. He wondered if they weren’t present because they hadn’t thought to come or because Buffy had said they didn’t need to be there. Wesley only wished she could have made certain that Xander was gone as well.

 

“Of course,” Wesley replied. “Just let me know when and we’ll work something out.”

 

Connor beamed. “Thanks, Wesley. I really appreciate that.”

 

Wesley watched him go and wondered how it was that he could have such a good relationship with Angel’s son and not Angel. He sighed and went to pick up another box, checking the sun’s position in the sky. Only a couple of hours now until Spike would be over, and Wesley found that he was relieved. He would feel more comfortable with Spike present.

 

And who would have ever thought he’d feel _more_ comfortable in the presence of a soulless vampire?

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was looking forward to seeing Buffy again, more than he really wanted to admit. Having her here in L.A., close by, was more than he’d ever hoped for. The fact that at least part of the reason she was moving to town was because of him gave him warm fuzzies, as Dawn might say.

 

What Spike was displeased about was the presence of the Scoobies. Before, when Buffy came up to see Dawn—and him—she had come by herself. Now that she had her own place, Willow and Xander would most assuredly be underfoot all the time, constantly getting in the way and causing problems because he dared to come around the Slayer.

 

He sighed as he pulled off his helmet. It might not be quite that bad; Giles was back in England, although the Watcher had been almost cordial at New Years. Willow had been courteous, and hadn’t appeared terribly upset by his presence. Xander was a different story, however, and Spike hadn’t any hope at all that they might actually learn to get along. It hadn’t been so bad the summer that Buffy had been gone. They hadn’t fought—much—and had even played pool together a few times. After the Slayer’s resurrection everything had changed, and Spike still remembered the look on the boy’s face when Spike had confronted him outside her house.

 

They hadn’t told him, and he had fought side-by-side with them that summer. They had kicked him to the curb when Buffy was back, so sure he’d “start up his little obsession again,” so sure that she didn’t need him.

 

Well, she had needed him. Buffy had needed him for all the wrong things, and he’d given her everything because he was convinced he could pull her out of it, bring her up to him.

 

It was Wesley who’d finally convinced Spike that people didn’t have to come down to him; he could go up to them—Wesley and Nika.

 

But that didn’t mean he was going back to being a punching bag for the Slayer’s super-friends. If either Red or the Whelp tried anything, he’d show them what it was like to mess with an unchipped Master Vampire, Slayer be damned. That was just one of the things that had to change if things were to be different this time around.

 

Spike had thought he knew what it was like to belong to a group; he now knew what it was like to belong to a family.

 

Buffy came out to meet him, looking several years younger than she was. She wore only a touch of make-up, jeans, and an old Sunnydale High t-shirt that had seen better days, and her bright hair was bound up in a bandanna. “Hey there,” she greeted him. “Thought I heard your bike.”

 

“You mean you don’t have another motorcycle-ridin’ boyfriend?” he asked teasingly.

 

She grinned. “Nope. Just you.”

 

Spike blinked. Somehow it was one thing to hear the Slayer say she loved him, another to have her admit that there was something between them, but having her call him her boyfriend was definitely icing on the cake. He smiled, the expression almost shy. “’s good to see you, luv.”

 

“It’s good to see you too.” Buffy leaned in, her face turned up for a kiss, with which he obliged her. “Mmm. Lips of Spike.”

 

A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “Don’t think that was quite the tone you used last time, Buffy.”

 

“I’m older,” she said, her tone fake-haughty. “I’m allowed to be wiser, too.”

 

His tongue curled up behind his teeth, he raised an eyebrow and grinned. “That right? You wise up then, Slayer?”

 

“I certainly hope so,” she replied. Buffy looked over at the empty U-Haul. “I hope you don’t mind, but we didn’t leave you anything. Connor and I got most everything heavy, with some help from Wesley and company.”

 

“Gang’s all here, then,” Spike murmured, not much wanting to go inside.

 

Buffy nodded, not looking all that happy about it herself. “Look, Spike, all I’m going to ask of you is that you don’t kill anybody, okay? I put down a deposit and blood’s a bitch to get out of the carpet.”

 

She was trying for humor, and Spike found himself feeling a surge of affection for her acknowledging that this meeting could get difficult. “Promise I won’t eat anybody.”

 

“Thanks.” His word was good as gold, as Buffy well knew. “Pizza’s on its way, so we should be eating soon. Dawn and I have some blood for you in a cooler if you get really hungry, and the microwave is working.”

 

“Thanks, luv,” Spike said. “You didn’t have to, though. Ate before I came.”

 

Buffy tucked her hand through his elbow. “I wanted you to feel at home. You know you have an open invitation, anytime you want to come over.” She made sure she said it before they reached the door so that Spike never felt the barrier—she wanted no barriers to come between them.

 

He recognized the gesture for what it was and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze in reply. “I need to go find kitchen-stuff so we can eat,” she told him. “I think Wesley’s helping Connor and Xander set up beds and all.”

 

She left him to his own devices, heading off in the direction of what could only be the kitchen. Spike could hear Nika and Dawn’s voices, and he took a half-step in that direction, not wanting to meet up with the Scoobies. Willow’s voice came through clearly then, from up the stairs, and she and Xander wandered into sight moments later.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Deadboy Jr.,” Xander said snidely. “Kill any good demons lately? Or are you starting to work on people yet?”

 

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but Wesley’s hand clamped down over his arm. “I’m going to need Spike’s strength to set up the bed in the master suite,” he said politely.

 

The vampire took the hint and allowed Wesley to pull him up the stairs. “Xander’s been making an arse of himself all day,” Wesley muttered in a low voice. “He keeps making comments about unchipped vampires, rogue Watchers, and traitors.” His grim smile held no humor. “I’m fairly certain he didn’t mean what I might have first thought he meant by that, as it was followed by another statement about how Watchers should know to stake a vampire.”

 

“I’ll kill him,” Spike muttered, knowing how much the comment on traitors must have stung, even if Xander wasn’t referring to the Connor fiasco.

 

Wesley chuckled darkly. “No, it was quite funny really, seeing as how his next comment was about how perhaps we were letting our hormones get the best of us—or rather that I was letting my hormones get the best of me.”

 

Spike stopped in the hallway, processing that comment, letting out a snort of laughter when Xander’s meaning finally sunk in. “You mean—you an’ me?” He started laughing in earnest, leaning up against the wall. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered. “What a git. Not that you wouldn’t be my type if I swung that way, mate, but—”

 

“Point taken,” Wesley said, a smile lighting up his own expression, making it a bit less grim. He shook his head, starting to laugh as well. “As if he didn’t know Nika and I are together.”

 

“Maybe he thinks we have orgies or some such,” Spike said, standing upright and heading back down the hallway to the master bedroom. “Wanker’s probably jealous.”

 

“I think you’re right, though not about that,” Wesley half-agreed. “Willow said she thought he might be upset that Buffy is moving to L.A., instead of staying in Sunnydale.”

 

Spike nodded. “Thought that might be it,” he admitted. “Knew I was going to have trouble with him. Be interestin’ to see how the Slayer handles it.”

 

“Did she say anything to you about it?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Told me not to kill anybody, ‘cause it’s too hard to get blood out of the carpet, an’ she has a deposit down.”

 

Wesley smiled. “Well, that’s promising.”

 

“Maybe,” Spike replied, looking glum. “You haven’t seen ‘em when they really get goin’ though.”

 

For a while, it looked as though Wesley might not get an opportunity to see a full-on game of “Kick the Spike.” Someone had obviously given Xander a good talking-to, since the young man was quiet, though sullen, all through the meal. The others talked around him, trying valiantly to ignore his bad mood and worse manners, but the storm was bound to break at some point.

 

Xander finally broke when Spike reached teasingly for the last slice of pizza, snatching it right out from under Connor’s questing hand. “Sorry, Hell-Boy,” Spike teased good-naturedly. “Looks like you lost out.”

 

“Like you’re one to be talking, Spike,” Xander burst out.

 

All eyes swung to stare at him. “What are you talking about?” Spike asked, his tone dangerous. It looked like Xander had forgotten the practical implications of the vampire’s chip being gone.

 

“Calling him ‘Hell-Boy.’ You’re the demon.” Xander’s words were snarled out, his face twisted in an ugly glare. Buffy opened her mouth to reprimand him, but Dawn put her hand over her sister’s, giving a quick shake of her head. She knew that Spike needed to handle this himself, and he needed for Buffy not to take any sides at all.

 

Spike gazed at him evenly. “’s a term of endearment, Harris,” he finally said as politely as he could manage. “I happen to be fond of the lad.”

 

“Sure, you are,” Xander challenged, standing. “I’ll bet you’re just waiting for a chance to eat Angel’s son. We all know the chip is out, Spike. It’s just a matter of time before you start hunting humans again. Buffy might have issues staking vampires, but I don’t, and I won’t.”

 

“You’ve never liked me,” Spike acknowledged. “I get that. I even get why. But I have never hurt somebody I cared about, Whelp. You should know that, seein’ as how I babysat the Niblet all that summer Buffy was gone. You didn’t seem to mind me stayin’ with her while you lot figured out how to rip the Slayer out of heaven.”

 

Xander turned purple with rage. Spike was standing to face him now, while the others remained in their spots. Wesley readied himself to leap to Spike’s defense if necessary, as did Buffy, but neither actually moved.

 

“We didn’t know!” he ground out. “We needed the Slayer.”

 

Spike stared at him. “Yeah, so what? Doesn’t matter, Harris. Can we just agree that we hate each other an’ be done with it?”

 

“You’re a vampire!” Xander said, looking around at the faces that surrounded him. “We’re talking about a bleached bloodsucker that tried to kill us all more than once. Why can’t anybody else see that he needs to be taken down? Put out of all our misery?”

 

Spike’s face hardened, his gaze flinty. He went still, as though he’d been carved from a single block of marble. “Why don’t you try it?” he asked softly. When Xander turned to stare at him, Spike continued. “I’m not quite the ‘Toothless Wonder,’ anymore. Why don’t you try to stake me? I’ll rip your throat out, an’ I’ll call it self-defense.” His demon came to the fore, amber eyes glowing maliciously. “An’ I’ve got witnesses.”

 

Xander looked almost manic. “Why don’t you bite me, Spike? Show everyone what an animal you really are?”

 

Spike’s demon visage changed almost imperceptibly, and then he shook it off, returning to his human guise. “You’re not worth it,” he said coldly. “An’ you probably taste like sawdust.” He started patting his pockets, feeling for his cigarettes. Dawn handed him a pack, his lighter tucked inside the cellophane. “Thanks, Bit,” he muttered, turning to go out through the sliding doors to the back patio.

 

Wesley stood to go to him, but Willow put a hand on his shoulder. “This is a Scooby mess,” she said quietly, sharing a look with Buffy, who nodded silently.

 

The witch headed out after Spike, and the Slayer turned to face one of her oldest friends. “You couldn’t let it go, could you, Xander?” she asked. “You had to try and goad Spike into biting you so I’d have to stake him. Do you have something against me being happy or what?”

 

Xander got a sick expression on his face as he realized that the plan had backfired. He’d really believed that he could force Spike into taking action that would require Buffy to stake him. Not only had Spike kept his cool, but he’d wound up looking like an idiot.

 

And Buffy looked like she might hate him.

 

“Buffy—”

 

“Spike is welcome in this house,” Buffy said quietly. “I asked you to be nice. I asked you to treat him just like you would treat any human guy I was interested in. It would have been fine if you’d teased him, Xander. I would have put up with the two of you sniping each other because you always do that. However, trying to get me to kill a friend is beyond the pale. I think you have an apology to make.”

 

“Buffy, I’m sorry,” Xander managed. “But Spike—”

 

“Not to me,” Buffy replied coldly. “I’m angry, and I don’t think Willow’s very happy with you right now, either, but in case you haven’t noticed everyone else here is more Spike’s friend than mine or yours.”

 

Xander gaped, and looked around him, suddenly realizing the truth behind Buffy’s statement. Spike didn’t have friends; he didn’t have people who stood up for him or cared if others were a little mean to him. He suddenly realized that he was outnumbered, and it gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Spike’s a vampire!” Xander protested, unwilling to let go of that point—vampires were evil. End of story.

 

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say I don’t care,” Wesley said coldly. He’d perfected that facial expression over the last few years. It felt rather good to use it to protect someone else rather than his own hurt feelings. “It’s not what a person is, it’s what he does. I don’t particularly want to see you again, Xander. I’m sorry.”

 

The ex-Watcher turned to go outside after Spike, and Xander looked over at Buffy and Dawn, both of whom had identical expressions on their faces. “Buffy—”

 

“I’m sorry, Xander,” Buffy said quietly. “You’re one of my best friends, and you always will be. If you’re trying to make me choose between you and Spike, then congratulations, you’ve won.”

 

As an expression of relief passed over Xander’s face, Buffy hastened on. “I choose Spike. He’s welcome in this house, and you will be again just as soon as you can treat him like a person. Maybe you won’t ever like him, but he’s due a little respect. Until you can give him that, I think it’s best that you leave.”

 

Xander realized that Willow was perhaps the only person who might have taken his side at that point, to plead his case for him with Buffy, and she had deliberately gone after Spike. “I—I’m sorry, Buffy. I just—I can’t.”

 

Buffy’s nod was oddly compassionate. “I know, Xander. I wish it could be different.”

 

There was nothing more to be said.

 

~~~~~

 

“Come out here to turn me into a toad, Red?” Spike asked sardonically as Willow came through the sliding glass door.

 

She seated herself gingerly next to him. “Nope, I’ve sworn off toad-turning. You end up with way too many toads way too fast.”

 

Spike rewarded her with a small smile. “Then you’ve come to tell me to back off the Slayer, I don’t deserve her, all that?”

 

“Nope,” Willow replied cheerfully. “I’ve managed to screw up my own life badly enough that I don’t want to be in charge of anybody else’s.”

 

“Been there,” Spike said softly. “What did you come out here for, pet?”

 

Willow thought about that question. “Well, I have to admit it was partly to avoid seeing Xander making an even bigger ass out of himself. But the other part was to let you know that not all of Buffy’s friends hate you or want you dead—” She made a face. “—er.”

 

“I ‘preciate the sentiment,” Spike said honestly. “Didn’t think any of you lot would ever—” He broke off abruptly.

 

Willow sighed. “Spike, I came pretty damn close to ending the world. I’m hardly going to be casting blame or throwing stones or, well, anything else remotely metaphor-y. I think it’s pretty amazing that you’ve been able to go from cold-blooded killer to a decent guy, even if you won’t ever be going to the beach with us.”

 

Spike thought about that. “You know, Red, ‘m sorry ‘bout all that—with the kidnappin’ and the threats with the bottle.” He looked over at her, and Willow could read the truth in his eyes. He really did feel bad about it, even if it wasn’t the sort of guilt Angel might feel with his soul. Spike would never feel true remorse for his past wrongs. He would never feel the general sort of empathy for the whole human race that she or Buffy might—but he would fight for the people he cared about, and he would avoid doing harm to those who didn’t harm him.

 

Willow had to admit that Spike was doing a lot better in the area of morality than most humans she knew. (Peter-the-jerk kept springing to mind.)

 

“It’s okay,” she said airily, waving a hand as though it were all too far in the past for her to remember. “Though, I’ll warn you, if you hurt Buffy I will turn you into a—a—fluffy kitten.”

 

Spike gasped in mock horror, his hand over his unbeating heart. “Red! Thought you said you were swearin’ off that kind of thing!”

 

She gave him a coy smile, standing and looking down at him as Wesley came outside. “I said I’d sworn off the toad-turning, because it’s really easy to have too many toads. You can never have too many kitties, though.” Willow turned back towards Wesley, who gallantly held the door open for her.

 

He folded his long frame down next to Spike and waited for the vampire to speak. “Is he still inside?”

 

Wesley hesitated, and then shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, the Slayer was getting ready to kick him out when I left.”

 

“I really wanted to bite him,” Spike admitted. “Or punch him or somethin’.”

 

Wesley smiled. “I did too.”

 

“Buffy—” Spike hesitated. “She’s not mad at me for that little display in there, is she?”

 

“I can honestly say that I don’t believe that any of Buffy’s anger is directed your way. No one is very happy with Xander at the moment.” Wesley looked over at the smaller man, and he realized that the vampire looked terribly vulnerable. “Are you alright, Spike?”

 

“She really does love me, doesn’t she?” Spike asked in a very small voice. “I never thought—if it came down to me or her friends…” he trailed off. “I never thought she’d pick me.”

 

Wesley knew that Spike was more than old enough to be his grandfather, but in that moment he felt very much towards Spike as one would towards a younger brother. Tentatively, because their relationship was not a physically demonstrative one, he put his arm around Spike’s shoulders. “I really think she does care for you, Spike,” Wesley agreed.

 

He pretended to ignore it when Spike made a swipe at his face with the back of his hand. “’m turnin’ into a bloody poof.”

 

“Should I fear for my virtue, then?” Wesley joked, earning a mock-glare from the vampire.

 

The vampire suddenly laughed. “Not while that girl of yours could take me out, mate.”

 

Wesley chuckled. “Personally, I would be more concerned about _your_ girl.”

 

Spike threw an involuntary look over his shoulder. “She is my girl.”

 

Wesley stood, holding out a hand. Spike looked at him for a moment, and then accepted his help. “Thanks, Wesley.” It was about more than the hand up, and Wesley knew it.

 

“You’re quite welcome.”

 

~~~~~

 

It was late before everyone else left, leaving Buffy and Spike by themselves, leaning against each other on the couch. “You could stay,” Buffy suggested softly. “I’ve already put blankets up over the windows in my room.”

 

“Don’t think so, luv,” Spike said regretfully. “None of your other windows are covered, an’ as nice as it sounds, don’t think we’re ready to spend an entire day in bed.”

 

“No,” Buffy agreed, biting back a sigh. Spike _had_ said he wanted to go slow, but she’d hoped that her little display with Xander would get him moving in the right direction. She took another drink from her bottle of water as Spike took another sip of his beer. “Though, maybe you’ve had too many beers to drive,” she suggested hopefully.

 

“That’s the nice thing ‘bout vampire constitutions,” he replied with a soft smile. “Take a lot more than a couple of bottles to impair me.”

 

Buffy had used the last of her ammunition, and out of habit, she rested her hand on her steadily growing pooch. The doctor had told her that it wasn’t abnormal for someone of her size not to start really showing until the fifth or sixth month, though Buffy had thought she’d be huge long before then. Her OB/GYN had assured her that she would soon be much bigger than she probably wanted.

 

A cautious excitement was beginning to build surrounding the pregnancy. There was also a deep sense of sadness that her mom wouldn’t be there for the birth of her first grandchild. Even the sadness was being eclipsed by the anticipation and sheer terror of being a mother herself. As though her thoughts had stimulated the growing baby, she felt a movement. “Oh.”

 

“What’s that, luv?” Spike asked, raising his head and looking over at her with drowsy concern. He was just content to be with Buffy, appreciating her presence with no hurry to leave.

 

“Here.” She grabbed his hand and placed it over the slight bulge in her abdomen.

 

Spike’s eyebrows went straight up. “Buffy? What—Are you okay? Is—” He stopped as he felt the movement against his hand. His blue eyes widened in delight, and he looked up at the Slayer. “Is that—?”

 

“That’s it,” she said, watching the look on his face with the same delight he was showing at the movement within her. He was as excited to feel the baby move as she hoped he might be.

 

Spike grinned. “That’s just…neat.” He moved his hand slightly. “Does it do that a lot?”

 

“Not much yet, but I have every confidence that it’ll get really old by the due date,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike’s hand stayed where it was. “Why anyone would want to miss this…” he murmured.

 

Buffy put her hand over his. “Thank you for being here.”

 

“Why would I want to be anywhere else?” Spike asked softly. For a moment, Buffy thought he might kiss her, but instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of her hand where it rested over his on her stomach. “I should go, luv.”

 

“Yeah, it’s late,” she agreed, not moving.

 

Gently, Spike tugged his hand away. “Good night, Buffy.” This time he did kiss her, a long slow kiss that rapidly grew in intensity. When he finally pulled back, the Slayer knew her eyes were probably glazed over. “Better lock up behind me,” he suggested. Kissing her cheek, he whispered in her ear, “If I haven’t already told you, Summers, pregnancy agrees with you. You’re beautiful.”

 

Buffy walked him to the door, resisting the urge to grab him and jump his bones right there on the living room floor. She wanted to take down a house again and do a retake of the next morning. “I love you, Spike,” Buffy sighed as he left.

 

“Love you, Slayer.”

 

Buffy closed and locked the door after he’d left, leaning back against the wood and listening for the sound of his bike roaring to life and heading off into the distance. “Well, Buf,” she said wryly, talking to herself and wishing that Spike’s self-control hadn’t improved so dramatically over the last three years. “They do say that abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”


	25. March 2006

**Part V: Reasons Revisited**

 

**“This is my life/It’s not what it was before/All these feelings I’ve shared/And these are my dreams/That I’d never lived before/Somebody shake me ‘cause I/I must be sleeping/Now that we’re here/It’s so far away/All the struggle we thought was in vain/All the mistakes, one life contained/They all finally start to go away/Now that we’re here/it’s so far away/I feel like I can face the day/I can forgive, and I’m not ashamed/To be the person that I am today/These are my words/That I’ve never said before/I think I’m doing okay/And this is the smile/That I’ve never shown before/Somebody shake me ‘cause I must be sleeping/I’m so afraid of waking/Please don’t shake me.” ~Staind, “So Far Away”**

**Chapter 25: March 2006**

 

The hardwood floor of Buffy’s living room seemed to glow in the dim lamplight as she and Nika chatted amiably, both curled up on the couch. The Slayer had decided to keep most of her mother’s furniture, partly to save money, but also because she still wanted reminders of their old house. Even in this new place, with her mom’s things surrounding her, Buffy sensed Joyce’s presence. It was comforting.

 

“This place looks really good, Buffy,” Nika complimented. They were having their first meeting to discuss Buffy’s pregnancy and Lamaze classes, which Nika was teaching. Nika usually required her first-time clients to take some kind of classes, feeling that it gave them some idea of what to expect.

 

Buffy looked around the living room herself, smiling. “It’s been fun to get things fixed the way I want,” she admitted. “It’s the first time I’ve had the opportunity to do that.”

 

“And Dawn?” Nika asked. “Is she going to be staying here?”

 

“This summer,” Buffy said. “Dawn promised to help me with the baby for the first few months, but she’s going to get her own place after that.”

 

Nika gave Buffy a knowing smile. “With Connor?”

 

“No, thank goodness,” Buffy replied, laughing a little. “Which means I can hold onto the fantasy that my sister isn’t having sex yet. On the other hand, I have it from a very reliable source that they’re planning on getting apartments in the same complex.”

 

Nika laughed. “I take it that the fantasy is weakening.”

 

“Oh, no, I’m holding onto it with both hands,” Buffy replied. “Just like Spike is. He told me he didn’t want to know for fear he’d have to do something about it.”

 

Nika burst out laughing. “I wondered why he hadn’t gotten overprotective yet.”

 

“Yeah, it’s because he’s refusing to be observant,” Buffy said wryly. “That, and I think he didn’t want Dawn to feel like she had to choose between him and Connor.” The Slayer turned pensive. “Spike’s lost out too many times to want to chance it.”

 

The other woman didn’t respond to Buffy’s obviously self-directed comment. “How have you been feeling lately?”

 

Buffy shrugged, knowing that Nika was referring to her pregnancy. “Good. I mean, I’m not getting morning sickness anymore. The mood swings aren’t a lot of fun, but I’m dealing. So far everything’s pretty normal.”

 

“Have you decided if you want to know the sex yet?”

 

Buffy smiled. “It isn’t up to me, apparently. Every time I go in for an ultrasound, the baby’s moved so they can’t tell whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

 

Nika laughed. “That can definitely happen at times. Have you decided on a birthing coach yet?”

 

“I—I don’t know,” Buffy said hesitantly. “I mean, it’s a lot to ask.”

 

“I’m sure Willow or even Dawn would be happy to do that for you,” Nika said gently. At the look on Buffy’s face, she said softly, “And that’s not who you want to ask.”

 

“No,” Buffy agreed. “How wrong would it be to ask him?”

 

Nika shook her head. “I don’t think it would be wrong, Buffy. The worst he could do is say no.”

 

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Buffy murmured, her tone slightly sarcastic. “I don’t even know how big a part he wants to play in this. We’re taking things slow, but being with me comes with an entirely different kind of baggage now. I don’t even know if Spike likes kids, let alone babies.”

 

Nika gave her a look. “I think you’re overlooking something.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“That it doesn’t matter how Spike feels about kids in general, or even about babies. It matters  how he feels about _your_ baby.” Nika sighed. “You’re worried that he’ll decide you aren’t worth the effort?”

 

“It’s not his child,” Buffy said. “Human guys run from pregnant women. What’s a vampire going to do?”

 

~~~~~

 

“It’s just that I don’t know what she wants,” Spike lamented. “Don’t even know if she wants me.”

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow, certain that most of Spike’s mood could be blamed on his typical melodramatic self where it concerned Buffy. “Spike, she kicked one of her oldest friends out the door for you. Why on earth would you think she didn’t want you?”

 

“’s the baby,” Spike finally admitted in a low tone. “I don’t know anythin’ ‘bout babies, unless you count the best way to eat ‘em, an’ that’s not goin’ to cut it. She could get a human guy, an’ maybe—maybe it would be better.”

 

Wesley sighed, wondering if Nika was having any better luck counseling the Slayer. He’d never thought he would be handing out relationship advice; it was ridiculous when you thought about his history. (Except for Nika, and he blamed extraordinarily good luck for that.) “Do you want the child?” he asked patiently.

 

Spike gave him a sharp glance. “What has that got to do with anything?”

 

“If you’re going to be with Buffy, you’re also going to be with her child,” Wesley pointed out. “The question isn’t, ‘are you prepared now?’ It’s ‘do you want to be prepared?’”

 

Spike frowned, staring into his beer as if the liquid held the answers to all his questions. “Dunno. But I want to be with Buffy.”

 

“Then if you’re honest, that’s the answer to your question,” Wesley said gently.

 

Spike shook his head. “Even if she wants me to stick around—an’ I’m not entirely sure she does—” he said, holding up a hand to forestall Wesley’s arguments. “’m not daddy material. Once she figures that out…”

 

Wesley laughed. “And I am?” he asked, looking at Spike in disbelief. “If Nika believes that I can be a father to a child, Buffy certainly might think the same of you. Besides which, you’ve already proven that you can handle an adolescent. I’ve heard they’re worse than babies.”

 

“’m a vampire, mate,” Spike reminded him, his tone a touch rueful. “It’s just like bein’ a teen.”

 

Wesley gave him a knowing look. “Then perhaps you’ve started to grow up.” He stood. “Come. Our informant just arrived. If we’re lucky, we can get this job done tonight.”

 

~~~~~

 

They were finishing that night’s job when Spike asked, “So what do you think I should do?”

 

“About what?” Wesley asked, wiping his ax-blade on one of the demon’s shirts.

 

“About Buffy.”

 

Wesley sighed. He couldn’t help but long for the days when Buffy was a distant memory, and Spike was trying to get over her. At least then the conversation didn’t always revolve around the blonde Slayer. “I don’t know, Spike,” he replied, as patiently as he was able. “Why don’t you ask her?”

 

Spike looked unsure. “You think?”

 

“I don’t think. I know.” Wesley faced the vampire and gave him a stern look. “If Nika and I had actually talked to one another about our feelings, rather than assuming and dancing around the issue, we might have been coming up on a year anniversary.”

 

He let the unspoken insinuation hang. If he and Nika had wasted a year, then Spike and Buffy had wasted three times as much time. Spike nodded. “Right. Talk.” He hesitated. “How?”

 

“Take her out to a nice dinner, man!” Wesley exclaimed. “Wear a tie, make a reservation, bring her flowers. Then ask her what she wants from you where it concerns the baby. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

 

“You don’t know Buffy,” Spike muttered, thinking about the other times he’d tried to talk to her. It had never ended well.

 

Wesley shook his head at the other man’s obtuseness. “Just do something, will you, and then move on to another topic?”

 

Spike smiled wryly. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t realize I was borin’ you.”

 

“You aren’t ‘boring’ me,” Wesley quickly replied. “On the other hand, it would be nice to talk about something other than the Slayer and how she feels about you.”

 

He chuckled. “Yeah. Been a bit of a broken record, haven’t I?” It was a rhetorical question. “I’ll try something. Don’t know what yet, but I’ll get it figured out.

 

~~~~~

 

Getting it figured out wasn’t easy. It wasn’t as though Spike didn’t know what women wanted. He’d seen the movie, watched TV, even been around women his entire existence—both alive and dead. The difficulty lay in the fact that he’d loved precisely three women in his long life, and the bulk of the time had been spent with Drusilla. Romance for her had been a fresh human heart; she had completely disregarded his necklace, which was probably a more typical token of affection.

 

Although, perhaps Drusilla’s glee over Angel’s gift had more to do with her fascination with Angelus, or perhaps she was just crazy enough to prefer a bleeding heart to something pretty. With Dru, it was hard to tell.

 

It was the same thing when he had chained Buffy up in the crypt. He’d been smarting over her rejection, and then he’d had to make a split second decision when Dru had tasered her. Impulsive acts never turned out well for him. Spike could make a plan and carry it out with the best of them—after all, he’d gotten the Gem of Amara, hadn’t he?—but when he got impatient and scrapped the plan, things fell apart.

 

So the chains had been a really bad idea, but they weren’t meant to hurt or scare her. Spike had just wanted the Slayer to stay in one place for long enough to hear him out, instead of walking away in a huff. It had worked with Dru, after all.

 

What _did_ a human boyfriend do anyway?

 

When he put the question to Dawn, the girl shrugged. “I don’t know, Spike. You do whatever you want to do. Do something she likes.”

 

Spike gave the girl a look. “Somethin’ she likes? Patrolling?”

 

“No!” Dawn said quickly. “Something different. Special.”

 

The vampire still wasn’t exactly sure what that was supposed to mean. Dawn gave him an exasperated look. “Do the same thing with Buffy that you would do with me, Spike. You seem to have a handle on friendships. It’s the same thing, basically, only with more kissing.”

 

“The only things Buffy an’ I have done in the past is shag and fight,” Spike said, a touch of bitterness in his tone. “What the bloody hell am I supposed to think?”

 

Dawn had to admit he had a point. Her sister’s repertoire of conversation seemed to be fairly well limited. “You guys do okay talking,” she said, trying to be encouraging. “That’s all you’ve been doing lately.”

 

“But—” Spike paused. “’s different. “I need to ask her something, an’ I want to set it up right.”

 

Dawn tried to hide a grin. Personally, she found Spike’s dithering adorable. He was so confident and cocky in other situations that seeing him so unsure now just told her how important it was to him. “Make reservations and take her out to dinner then,” she advised. “She’ll like that, especially since she’s eating for two now.”

 

“I’ll give it a shot then, luv,” Spike replied. “You and Connor still doin’ okay?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Dawn replied, the dreamy smile on her face telling Spike exactly how “okay” she was doing. “It’s going really well.”

 

He gave her a slightly sour look, belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “You two aren’t up to anythin’ that’s goin’ to make me go postal, are you?”

 

“That’s none of your business,” Dawn replied pertly. “Suffice it to say that Connor and I made it through our first fight intact, which is saying something.”

 

“Not that I don’t like the boy, but—”

 

“What do _I_ like about him?” Dawn asked thoughtfully. “Well, he’s cute. Big plus there,” she said grinning. Spike rolled his eyes at her, and she replied by sticking out her tongue. “Other than that, it’s mostly that we have a lot in common. We like the same kinds of things, and he’s really nice. Oh, and we both understand having a freaky family. We can talk to each other about things that are going on without sounding completely psycho.”

 

Spike smiled. “That sounds like enough reason to me.”

 

Dawn was quiet for a moment. “Spike?”

 

“Yeah, luv?”

 

“I love you.”

 

He looked over at her, surprised. “Love you too, Bit, but what was that for?”

 

“Showing me an example of the kind of guy I want so I knew a good one when I saw him.”

 

Spike was rendered speechless. All he could do was smile softly and touch Dawn’s cheek in wordless thanks.

 

~~~~~

 

“Hey, Nika.”

 

Nika turned to see Dawn entering the kitchen from the basement. “Hello, _cariad_. Did you stay the night?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “Yeah. It had been a while, and Spike and I had a lot to catch up on.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “Besides, Connor had some sort of family deal last night, and I didn’t really want to spend my evening with Angel.”

 

Nika put a cup of coffee down in front of the girl, her eyebrows raised in question. “He’s better than he was,” Dawn explained, “but he’s still broody. And he keeps asking both of us about you and Wesley.”

 

“He’s asking about us?” Nika inquired sharply.

 

Dawn nodded. “Not in a bad way. Just asking if you guys are doing okay, and if Wesley has killed any big bads. That kind of thing. Like he wants to be friends.”

 

Nika gave an indelicate snort. “Too bad.”

 

They sipped their coffee in companionable silence for a while. “Nika? Can I ask you a personal question?”

 

The other woman looked across the table at Dawn, weighing her request with due consideration. “Of course, Dawn, though I won’t promise to answer.”

 

“How do you know when you should have sex with somebody?”

 

“Is this about Connor?”

 

“Kind of.” A little line appeared between Dawn’s brows. “I mean, we’re definitely headed in that direction, but Buffy—watching my sister has made me just a little cautious. I just thought you might—I don’t know, have some ideas.”

 

Nika sighed, thinking for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee to give herself time to think. “I will tell you what I believe, _cariad_, but this is something every woman must determine for herself. Your sexuality, your body, is a gift that you give to your lover, whomever he might be. Between two people who care for each other, sex can be an incredible gift. It can also be merely physical, and it can become sorely twisted. You must decide what sex will be for you in your relationship with Connor. Is it something that he will appreciate and treasure, or is it something he feels is his due?”

 

Dawn smiled. “I think it would be a gift, you know. We haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but it’s coming. Even if it doesn’t last, I think I’ll always love him.”

 

Nika reached across the table to grasp Dawn’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “It is a difficult decision, love, though not everyone would agree with me. I have loved three men in my life, and I have not regretted any of it. That is something I am quite proud of.”

 

“You and Spike were together, weren’t you?” Dawn asked.

 

“Yes,” Nika said quietly. “We both needed something from the other. I needed to feel as though I was not alone, and Spike needed to know he was cherished. It was good.”

 

“And you and Wesley?” Dawn asked. “How did you know you loved him?”

 

Nika sighed. “I knew I loved him when I realized what it would cost me to lose him. It is not a method of finding the truth that I would wish on anyone.”

 

“No,” Dawn agreed, thinking about her own losses and the pain they had brought. Losing Connor would be a pain all its own. “No. That would be a really sucky way to figure it out.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy cast a cautious glance over at Spike, thinking about what a strange evening this had been. She wasn’t having a horrible time, but there was a thinly disguised undercurrent of tension all through dinner and beyond. She knew why she was nervous—she hadn’t yet asked him to be her birthing coach. Buffy hadn’t the least idea why Spike should be so tense, however, as she thought he had himself and his life pretty well sorted out.

 

Maybe it was just the circumstances of their date. Buffy had done the dinner and conversation thing with most of her boyfriends, the human ones anyway. She and Spike had never gone out together, dated, or whatever you wanted to call it, though. The closest they had come was when he’d come up to Sunnydale when she’d signed the papers for Peter. She and Spike hadn’t had time to get used to doing the boyfriend/girlfriend thing, even if that’s technically what they were.

 

Though, it did seem stupid to call a century-old vampire her “boyfriend.” The moniker just didn’t seem to fit. Buffy sighed.

 

“You alright, luv?” Spike asked, breaking the silence. The park was quiet after dark except for the slight buzzing of the street lamps that he figured only he could hear. “Are you cold?”

 

“Huh?” Buffy was startled out of her thoughts. “Oh, no. Not really.”

 

Spike took a deep, unneeded breath. He’d thought that by going for a walk he would work up the nerve to have “the talk,” but it wasn’t going so well. “You know, Buffy—”

 

“Spike, I think we need to—”

 

They both stopped, laughing nervously at having started speaking at the same time.

 

“You go ahead,” Spike said graciously.

 

Buffy looked away. “It’s just, I have to take these childbirth classes, and I thought maybe—” She was interrupted this time not by Spike, but by a scream. They acted together as one, splitting up and running to flank the area from which the disturbance was coming. In spite of being nearly six months pregnant, Buffy was still moving at full Slayer-speed, nearly flying across the ground.

 

Spike, who was normally exquisitely graceful, found himself stumbling over a tree root that seemed to come up out of nowhere. With a growl, his demon appeared, yellow eyes glowing, easily picking out the scene.

 

The mugger was human, Buffy realized in the split second she had to assess the situation. He was human and he had a gun, which he was using to threaten a young woman. If the Slayer had had the chance to think about it, she probably would have realized that Spike was the better choice to take down the thief, especially as the vampire couldn’t be killed by bullets. She didn’t have time to think, however, and she hadn’t really had the chance to witness Spike in action since he’d had his chip out. Most of the time she forgot that he could now hurt humans. So it seemed logical for her to step in and stop the guy.

 

After all, she had the element of surprise on her side, and the mugger certainly wasn’t expecting a pregnant woman to come out of nowhere and snap his wrist like a twig.

 

There was a sharp crack as the bones broke, and the gun went flying. Spike was there in the next instant, human face firmly in place. He grabbed the mugger’s arms roughly, taking a second to toss his cell phone at Buffy. “Better call the police,” he said curtly.

 

Buffy could hear the tension in his tone, but she didn’t have time to figure out the cause. She quickly dialed 911, pausing to comfort the girl, barely more than a teen, who was beginning to sob in reaction. Spike kept hold of the man, and Buffy glanced over at him, realizing that he was planning on taking credit for the capture. It made more sense, of course. The cops were hardly going to believe that a pregnant lady had managed to take down a full-grown man twice her size.

 

Sure enough, Spike succinctly explained the situation to the cops when they arrived. The cops took their statements, glanced over their identification, and said they’d call if they needed anything else, leaving the two of them free to go.

 

Spike waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “What the bloody hell were you thinking, Slayer?”

 

His voice was low, but intense, and Buffy’s head snapped around at his barely contained rage. “What are you talking about, Spike?”

 

“Why didn’t you let me handle it?” he demanded. “That bastard had a gun, and in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not the one immune to bullets.”

 

“He was human!” Buffy protested, realizing belatedly that was no longer a handicap for the vampire. “Okay, so I forgot the chip is gone, Spike. I didn’t have a chance to think about it.”

 

“That’s no excuse.”

“Spike!” Buffy was getting pissed off. He was being unreasonable. “What’s your issue?”

 

“You could have been hurt,” he pointed out. “You an’ the baby. Thought you said you didn’t have a death wish, Slayer.”

 

“I don’t!” Buffy protested, her own temper steadily rising. “Look, Spike, I may be pregnant, but I’m still the Slayer, and I’m still perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If you wanted to take the guy down, maybe you should have moved a little faster.”

 

Spike was beyond angry at this point, and he could feel his control slipping. He knew he was being irrational; he was well aware that he was dangerously close to saying something he was going to regret. Seeing Buffy take down the mugger, seeing the gun fly, he knew that if something had gone wrong he could have lost her in an instant. She’d been shot before, and Spike knew that the Slayer was not immune to bullets.

 

He was angry at her for being so seemingly careless, angry at himself for not moving faster, scared to death that he was going to lose her again, one way or another. “I was movin’ as fast as I could,” he replied, a hot bolt of shame sliding through him at his own weakness. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have waited a few more seconds.”

 

“So you could play overprotective boyfriend?” Buffy demanded. “You don’t have the right, Spike.”

 

It wasn’t what she meant to say, not really. Spike was as much her boyfriend as anything else, though that wasn’t the title she’d give him. Buffy was angry and hormonal and just a little aroused as the fight escalated. In short, she was ready to have it out with all of their old passion.

 

Spike’s blue eyes darkened until they were almost black, and his lips curled back in a sneer. “So is this it, Slayer? I haven’t scratched your itch, so I mean nothing to you? Are we back to me bein’ your toy?”

 

His accusation wouldn’t have hurt so much if there hadn’t been just a smidgeon of truth there. It wasn’t all he was, but Buffy was a little tired of taking it slow. The fight had her, as Faith had often said, all revved up. Her right cross came out of nowhere, snapping his head back with force.

 

Spike’s own fist came up and stopped. He stood, trembling, staring at her. His face stung where she’d hit him, but it hadn’t really hurt. What had hurt was that they seemed to be back where they had started. He had promised they weren’t going there again. Spike had sworn he wasn’t going to be the Slayer’s punching bag or her sex toy anymore.

 

Lowering his fist with effort, Spike took a step backward. Buffy felt as shocked as the vampire looked, and she was almost disappointed when he didn’t hit back. If he had hit her, Buffy might have managed to feel justified after the fact.

 

“No,” he said hoarsely, taking another step back. “’m not doin’ this again. ‘s done.” Turning on his heel, Spike called back over his shoulder. “You can see yourself home, Slayer, if you’re so good at takin’ care of yourself.”

 

Buffy reached up to wipe silent tears from her cheeks. In one stupid move, she’d taken them right back to the alley, where they always seemed to end up. They had seemed to come so far, and she had screwed it all up again.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn wasn’t quite sure what made sex so special. Her first time had been nice, but it definitely wasn’t like the movies or the books either. There had been a lot of fumbling from inexperienced hands, awkward gropings, and giggling as things didn’t quite work as they’d expected.

 

This, on the other hand, was very nice.

 

Connor was watching her, propped up on his elbow, a little smile on his lips. “I love you.”

 

She scooted herself over so she was spooned against him. “I love you too,” she sighed.

 

“Was it—” he stuttered a little, seeming suddenly insecure. “Was it okay?”

 

“It was good.”

 

Connor was quiet. “I’ve never done this before, you know.”

 

“I know. Me neither.”

 

“This is nice, though.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, letting out a yawn. “I like being with you.”

 

“Same goes,” Dawn replied, yawning herself. She waited until Connor had settled himself back on the pillow before resting her head on his chest, feeling pleasantly sleepy.

 

“We’re probably doomed, you know,” Connor muttered. “When you think about it, your sister, my dad. We’re completely screwed up.”

 

“I’m okay with that, if you are,” Dawn replied.

 

“Love you anyway,” Connor murmured.

 

Dawn smiled. As she followed him down, she thought to herself, ‘My love life could hardly get as screwed up as Buffy’s.’

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley woke to the slamming of the front door. He pushed himself up slowly, wondering if it was a sound he needed to investigate.

 

“It’s just Spike,” Nika said, pulling him back down. “Probably angry about something.”

 

The second bang, this time of the basement door being slammed, supported her theory. “Should we—?”

 

“No, not tonight,” Nika replied. “We’ll talk to him in the morning. It’s best to let him cool off for a while first.”

 

Wesley hesitated, thinking about it. He knew there were plenty of times when he had preferred to brood for a while before being inundated with questions and concerns. “Tomorrow then,” he agreed, settling back down into sleep. His last thoughts were of the woman beside him, a grateful recognition of the security of their love.


	26. Late March 2006

“Connor, thanks for coming,” Wesley said, greeting the young man with an affectionate handshake and clap on the shoulder. “I don’t think Spike’s going to be able to come.”

 

Connor frowned. “Is he still not talking?”

 

“No,” Wesley replied, sounding unhappy. “Not even to Danika, and that is most unusual. What about Buffy? Have you seen her?”

 

Connor nodded. “I went over there with Dawn the other day. She looked tired, but she seemed fine otherwise. Dawn said she won’t tell her what their fight was about, just that they’d pretty much broken up.”

 

Wesley sighed. Nika had been worrying about Spike constantly over the last week and a half. If the vampire was emerging from the basement, it was only when he knew he wouldn’t see anyone else. Both of them had tried to rouse him from his room, only to be answered by a surly “go away.”

 

Nika said he’d been this way to a certain extent at the very beginning of their acquaintance, but he’d already had a few weeks of getting used to Buffy being gone. Wesley had thought a spot of violence was just what Spike needed, but if it was, he was getting it without the ex-Watcher being present. He’d told his partner—through the bedroom door—of tonight’s job and his need for backup, but Spike had yet to show, so he’d given Connor a call.

 

The younger man shifted slightly, looking towards the basement door. “Maybe I should try.”

 

“No, I don’t think it’s of any use,” Wesley replied. “Spike will come out when he feels like it.”

 

They had turned to leave the kitchen when the creak of the basement door could be heard. “You said you needed me.”

 

Both men turned, but it was Connor who was the first to speak. “You look like shit, Spike.”

 

“Piss off,” Spike replied automatically. He was paler than normal, dark circles under his eyes.

 

Wesley frowned. “How long since you’ve fed?”

 

“’m fine,” Spike replied, though there was no life in his voice.

 

“Well, you’re not going,” Wesley said, sounding frustrated. “Not if you’ve been drinking. I can’t have you at less than your best.”

 

“I haven’t touched a drop,” Spike replied, nearly snarling the words.

 

Connor shrugged. “He’s telling the truth,” he said, responding to Wesley’s questioning look. “I can’t smell any alcohol on him.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “Very well. If you want to come along, grab a travel mug. We could use your presence, but you won’t be of any use at all if you faint from hunger.”

 

“Vampires don’t faint.” Spike did grab a container of blood from the fridge though, not bothering to heat it. “And ‘m not sure I’m of much use to anyone.”

 

“Don’t be a stupid git,” Wesley reprimanded him. “When you pull your head out of your arse, you can be a great deal of help.”

 

Spike shot him a reproachful look. “You know, ‘m in a great deal of pain here. You might be a little more sympathetic, Watcher.” The two men locked gazes in a battle of wills. Spike looked away first. “Can we just go an’ get this over with?”

 

“Fine,” Wesley said. “Let’s go.”

 

~~~~~

 

It wasn’t their typical job. The Verak demon clans were quite well assimilated into human society, and preferred to keep a low profile. Every hundred years or so, however, rival clans would find it impossible to settle their differences peaceably. The last conflict had cost hundreds of lives. This time, they had decided to hire an outside intermediary—Wesley.

 

The fat check they’d offered in exchange had made the deal sweet enough, but the reasons behind their choice of mediator made Wesley feel good. He was known to be just in the demon world, fair and knowledgeable about demons and their various cultures. Word had gotten out that the human called Wesley could be counted on to be an impartial judge and would live up to his agreements.

 

Thus, Wesley was going to be doing the negotiating because he knew the language. Spike and Connor were there as his bodyguards. While none of the Veraks were supposed to be armed, to not show up with backup would be a demonstration of weakness.

 

Connor looked every inch the young warrior, so Wesley wasn’t too concerned about the Veraks’ perception of the boy. Spike, on the other hand, with his exhausted appearance, could possibly be seen as a weakness.

 

The ex-Watcher was just happy that the blood Spike drank on the drive over seemed to revive him a bit. By the time they were entering the Veraks’ Hall of Judgment, Spike’s limp and haggard face made him look more like a seasoned veteran than a vampire with a hangover.

 

Negotiations went smoothly enough. With Spike and Connor casting imposing shadows to either side of him, no one was willing to risk their wrath. Wesley soon realized that most of the argument had to do with trade agreements that left one clan feeling cheated, so it was merely a matter of reworking the agreements to everyone’s satisfaction. Easier said than done, of course, but it could have been much more complicated.

 

By the time the negotiations were over, and Wesley had received his payment, sunrise was quite close. The look on the vampire’s face when he realized how close it was sent a slice of fear into Wesley’s heart. He exchanged a glance with Connor, and then took Spike’s arm firmly in his grip. “Let’s go. We need to get you home.”

 

Spike didn’t say anything, merely nodding and wearily climbing into the passenger seat.

 

The drive back to Nika’s house was made in silence. Connor quickly said his goodbyes and headed over to his own car, a refurbished Supernova that he and his father had worked on together for his 21st birthday. Wesley herded Spike into the house, sitting him down at the kitchen table and beginning to make coffee and heat up a mug of pig’s blood.

 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

 

Spike stared down at the grain in the ancient table, rubbing his thumb along one of the scars in the wood. “Buffy an’ I had a fight.”

 

“I had gathered that much,” Wesley replied dryly.

 

He took the mug that Wesley held out and drained it quickly with a grimace. “Hate that stuff.”

 

Wesley sipped his coffee and waited. He knew that Nika wouldn’t be home quite yet from her EMT job. She was working overnights three days a week now, and yesterday she’d had to pull a double shift. “It was stupid,” Spike finally admitted. “We were walkin’ after dinner, an’ I was trying to get up the nerve to ask her what she wanted from me. Heard some screamin’—of course—an’ we sped off to the rescue.”

 

“Vampires?”

 

“Human bugger,” Spike corrected. “Thinkin’ he had an easy target. Slayer rushed in there an’ knocked the gun out of his hand. I—I dunno, I overreacted. Just kept thinkin’ about what would have happened if he’d managed to get a shot off.”

 

Wesley sighed. “So you fought.”

 

“I said somethin’ I shouldn’t have—‘ve got chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome when it comes to Buffy,” Spike explained. “An’ then she hit me. Maybe I deserved it, but…”

 

“I see. Did you strike her in return?”

 

“No. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Just walked off. I kept seein’ her face in that alley, tellin’ me—” He stopped there, unwilling to continue.

 

Wesley nodded. “Are you going to apologize?”

 

Spike’s chin set stubbornly. “No, ‘m not. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I think it might be a little true. An’ anyway, she hit me. She’s goin’ to have to be the one to say she’s sorry first. ‘m not crawlin’ back to the Slayer. Not this time.”

 

Wesley resisted the urge to heave another sigh. It looked as though the next few weeks were going to be miserable, at least until someone came to their senses.

 

~~~~~

 

“Why don’t you just call him already?” Dawn demanded, getting very tired of her sister’s constant long face. “You know you want to.”

 

“No,” Buffy said stubbornly. “Not after what he said. He’s going to have to say he’s sorry first.”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “That’s really stupid logic. What if neither one of you backs down? You can spend the rest of your life being sorry and stupid, or you can swallow your pride and apologize to Spike. You’re the one that hit him.”

 

“I know,” Buffy said, frustrated. “What’s the point, though, Dawn? If we’re always going to end up fighting and mad at each other, why even bother?”

 

“It’s not the fighting,” Dawn pointed out. “Connor and I have had our fights. And I’ve heard Wesley and Nika arguing too, so it’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just that you and Spike have a lot of baggage surrounding the whole fighting thing, and this time you hit him.”

 

“After what he said—” Buffy started, trying to defend herself.

 

Dawn fixed her sister with a stern glare. “You know, in my sociology class, they would say that hitting anybody, no matter what the reason, was wrong. You never hit your human boyfriends.”

 

Buffy winced. That was true enough, and Peter had definitely deserved to be hit a lot more than Spike had. Seeing that she had Buffy on the ropes, Dawn continued inexorably. “Besides, I’m wondering if you weren’t pissed off because Spike was right, at least a little.”

 

“Fine!” Buffy burst out. “I was horny. Yes, I still want Spike, and he’s not going anywhere with that. But that’s not what it’s all about.”

 

“Are you sure he really knows that?” Dawn asked. “I know you told him you loved him, Buffy, but I don’t think Spike really believes that this relationship of yours is going to last very long. After Connor and I had our first fight, I asked Nika what I was supposed to do, because I was pretty sure that it was over for us. She laughed and said that every couple fights, but everybody’s got to learn how to bend a little. All Spike has done for you is bend, Buffy, and he’s finally learned how to take care of himself. Until he knows he can trust you not to walk at the first sign of trouble, maybe you should be the one that bends.”

 

Dawn gave her sister another stern look. “And you were the one that hit him.”

 

Buffy winced. She sounded close to tears when she finally spoke. “But what if I ruined it?”

 

“I don’t know.” Dawn gave her sister a hug. “I guess you’ll survive.”

 

Buffy wasn’t nearly so sure.

 

~~~~~

 

Nika was snuggled up against Wesley on the couch in her living room. “So Spike is okay?”

 

“I think he will be,” Wesley replied, stroking her hair. “We’ll have to see what Buffy does.” They had both slept the day away, and had risen late, Wesley finally telling Nika what Spike had told him early that morning.

 

She sighed. “Let’s not fight, _cariad annwyl_. I don’t want there to be pain between us.”

 

“‘Oh, I think we are too wise to woo peaceably,’” Wesley quoted.

 

She sighed. “Then promise me we won’t go to bed angry, even if we have to stay up all night—or all day—to sort it out.”

 

“That I think I can promise you.”

 

They sat quietly, simply enjoying the peace of the other’s presence, when Wesley’s phone rang. “Wyndam-Pryce.” Nika listened to the one-sided, intense conversation, dread beginning to take over. She had accepted Wesley’s job, and had accepted it was a dangerous one, but every time he went out she knew that he might not come back. When he disconnected, she asked, “You have to leave?”

 

“As soon as I can rouse Spike,” Wesley replied. “Apparently, there are a large number of vampires bent on taking over a club tonight. One of the owners got word and decided to call me.”

 

Nika raised an eyebrow. “Why not just shut down the club?”

 

“They would just choose a different time,” Wesley pointed out. “Or a different club, one that we had no warnings for.”

 

“How many?”

 

“He thought more than a dozen.”

 

“Wesley,” Nika began. “Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but shouldn’t you have more than just Spike?”

 

Wesley considered it, finally nodding. “You’re right. We could probably handle it, but more hands means less chance of anyone getting hurt.” He quickly dialed Connor’s number, but had to leave a message.

 

“Call Buffy,” Nika suggested.

 

“Do you think it wise?” Wesley asked, concerned. “Not just with the pregnancy, but with Spike?”

 

“They have to see each other sometime,” Nika pointed out reasonably. “And the pregnancy is still not so far along that it will make it dangerous. From what Dawn has said, Buffy’s been going out on her own recently. At least tonight she’ll have the two of you with her.”

 

“Of course.” Wesley sighed. “Though I’m not sure I’m ready for more drama.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy climbed into the backseat of Wesley’s new SUV. “Hey, Wes. I like the new wheels.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied politely. “It seems to be coming in handy so far.”

 

“Did you get rid of the Big Dog?”

 

“No,” Wesley replied, smiling a little. “My fiancée informed me that I would not be getting rid of the motorcycle.”

 

“Smart woman,” Buffy murmured, sending a cautious look at Spike in the passenger seat. “Hey, Spike.”

 

“Slayer.”

 

There was enough of a chill in Spike’s voice to have Buffy sitting back against the seat in silence. No one seemed to have the use of their tongues as they finished the drive to the club. When Wesley pulled up, he gave both of them stern looks. “This is going to be difficult enough without the two of you at odds with each other. We have fifteen minutes before we have to go in. I would suggest you take a moment to ensure we don’t go in there and end up getting everyone killed.”

 

There was the slam of the door as he exited the vehicle and then a long silence. “Spike—”

 

“Forget it,” Spike said shortly. “Let’s just forget it even happened.”

 

“No,” Buffy protested. “I don’t want to forget it happened. I wanted to tell you I was sorry.”

 

Spike shook his head, finally twisting in his seat to face her. “No, luv, what I said wasn’t fair, but what happened wasn’t right. It just showed that we haven’t really gone anywhere. I—I’m not sure this is gonna work out.”

 

“Spike, no!” Buffy protested. “We don’t have to end this after one fight.”

 

The vampire looked away, profoundly unhappy. “I don’t want to end it, luv, but we can’t keep doing this.”

 

“What? Fighting?” Buffy asked. “We fight all the time. It’s what we do. We—we just have to figure out how to do it better.”

 

Spike glanced down and away, out the window. “Now’s not the time,” he finally said. “Can we go in there an’ do our jobs?”

 

“Hey, we made a great team when I still hated you,” Buffy pointed out.

 

He smiled. “Yeah, that was fun. Remember the vampires in the magic shop with Angel?”

 

“Yeah,” Buffy met his grin with one of her own. “That was probably more fun for you than me.”

 

Spike reached for the door handle, and Buffy stopped him. “Spike—”

 

“I know, luv,” he said softly. “I know.” Spike could see the words in her eyes, but sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

 

~~~~~

 

The situation inside the club was as chaotic as they had feared it would be. As seemed to happen so often, they found that the estimated numbers of the enemy had been lower than the actual count. Thankfully, the advance warning had allowed the owner to clear the club before the vampires actually showed up.

 

With somewhere around eighteen vampires, rather than the estimated twelve, however, it became difficult to keep track of each other. They had tried to stay close, but the vampires’ leader was smart, and he’d managed to deploy his minions in such a way as to separate Buffy, Spike, and Wesley into their own corners of the large open room.

 

In spite of being outnumbered, Spike and Buffy were easily the match for the group, and Wesley made up in experience and brains for what he lacked in strength and speed. Buffy caught a glimpse of her former Watcher several times, and she admired his fighting style, which had much improved.

 

She was putting a stake through the heart of her last vamp when she heard a cry from behind, and felt a hard body slam into her, throwing her to the ground. Buffy landed with an oomph, and turned her head to see Wesley land next to her, a long piece of pipe straight through his shoulder.

 

“Bloody hell!” Spike’s curse rang out, and Buffy pushed herself off the ground to see him stake the last target. He was at Wesley’s side in a moment, checking for a pulse, looking his friend over to ascertain the extent of his injury. “Alright, mate?”

 

“I’ve got a bloody pipe sticking through my shoulder. What do you think?” Wesley muttered, not sounding particularly okay. Buffy figured if he was being cranky, he was probably better than he looked.

 

Spike pulled out his cell and tossed it over to Buffy. “Better call the ambulance, luv.” While Buffy punched in the numbers and explained the situation to the operator in a low tone, Spike examined the injury. It looked as though the pipe had gone straight through, missing any vitals. The pipe was only about a quarter inch thick, but its presence was going to make it difficult for the paramedics to take care of him. “Think I might need to yank this out, Wesley,” he said in a low voice. “I know they say not to do that, but I think it would hurt more to leave it in an’ let them yank it.”

 

“Somehow I’m certain you’re correct,” Wesley replied. “Do it quickly, Spike.”

 

Spike grasped the pipe as close to the shoulder as he could, withdrawing it in one smooth motion. Wesley gasped in pain, his face becoming even paler, but he made no other sound. “Gotta give you credit,” Spike said, laughing shakily. “You’ve got stones, Wesley.”

 

“Thanks.” Wesley hissed again as Spike pressed the shirt he’d been wearing over the wound, applying pressure. He winced as he remembered something. “Nika—she’s on duty tonight.”

 

“You think—” Spike stopped mid-question. “Of course. That’s just our luck.” He glanced up at Buffy, who nodded.

 

“I’ll go watch for them.” Buffy looked down at the fallen man, an expression of pain flitting across her features. “Thanks, Wes. I owe you.”

 

“One of these days I’ll let you pay me back,” he promised.

 

Buffy headed outside to watch for the paramedics, and Spike stayed to continue applying pressure to the wound. “You’ve got to stop getting hurt on the job.”

 

“That’s what I keep telling myself. So far it isn’t doing any good.”

 

They let the silence grow. “How bad you think this is?” Spike asked.

 

“It doesn’t feel as bad as the gunshot wound,” Wesley replied. There was the sound of sirens outside. “If—you’ll call Nika for me?”

 

“’Course, though knowin’ our luck, she’ll be here.”

 

Their luck was holding, since Spike could pick up both Buffy and Nika’s voices coming from outside, as well as another, unfamiliar voice. The Slayer entered, closely followed by both paramedics. “You ever think about not getting hurt, _cariad_?” Nika asked, hurrying over to Wesley’s side. She turned to her partner. “Ethan, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Wesley.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” the big, red-haired paramedic replied gravely. “We’ll get you patched up in no time, Wesley.”

 

Ethan and Nika went to work on the fallen man, quickly getting him up on the gurney. “We’ll meet you at the hospital, luv,” Spike said quietly. He and Buffy had been standing back, out of the way, not wanting to interfere with their ministrations.

 

“Thanks, Spike.” Nika turned to give him a grateful look, but otherwise her face was blank of all expression. Slayer and vampire watched them leave, and then went out to Wesley’s car.

 

The drive over was as silent and tense as the earlier trip had been. Buffy was the one who finally broke it, just as Spike parked. “I feel like this was my fault.”

 

“Not your fault,” Spike murmured.

 

“But if I’d been paying more attention—”

 

“We all know the risks, Slayer, Wesley better than anyone. He’s going to be fine.”

 

Buffy shook her head. She would never get used to it: watching people she loved get hurt or killed. Starting with her first Watcher, all the way up through Tara, with so many in between. Maybe Wesley would be okay, but she didn’t feel any better about it.

 

Nika was seated in the waiting room when they got there, and Spike hurried to take a seat next to her. “You doin’ okay?”

 

“Yeah, Ethan told our supervisor about Wesley, and he told me to take the rest of the night off.” Nika had been completely professional when she’d arrived with the ambulance at the club, but now her voice shook slightly, and both Buffy and Spike could see the tears that threatened. “He’s going to be okay, of course. It’s not a life-threatening injury.”

 

“What are they saying about his shoulder?” Buffy asked from Nika’s other side, reaching over to hold the woman’s hand.

 

Nika shrugged. “He’s in surgery. They won’t know for a while. There was definitely some damage done, but that’s all the doctor could say.”

 

“You know Wesley, Nika-luv,” Spike said gently. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

 

She nodded bravely. “I told myself I wouldn’t fall apart when he got hurt. This is just part of his job.”

 

Spike put an arm around her shoulders, and Nika leaned into him. Buffy watched with a sense of jealousy. She knew that she didn’t need to worry about anything inappropriate in their relationship, but _she_ wanted to be the one leaning on Spike. _She_ wanted to be the one to feel his arms around her. It really wasn’t fair.

 

And then the little voice in the back of her head reminded her that it was perfectly fair, and if she hadn’t gone and screwed up a good thing, she would have been the one with her head on his shoulder.

 

Hours always seemed to pass like days in hospital waiting rooms. Spike kept a surreptitious eye on the Slayer as she sat, or paced, or tried to read some tattered magazine. He had almost lost her tonight, he knew. Had Wesley not seen the vampire throwing the long pipe—part of a metal table—it would have gone right through her throat, or possibly her head. Not even her status as the Slayer would have saved her.

 

Spike knew that most of his anger from the other night had been born of fear. Like Nika, he had loved and lost before. Unlike Nika, he’d loved, lost, and then regained the same person. He couldn’t see himself recovering from Buffy’s death again.

 

He also knew that Buffy’s primary way of dealing with anger and hurt was to lash out physically. Spike had long ago realized that there was usually a disconnect between brain and mouth whenever he was around the Slayer; the fight had been a stunning example.

 

So he’d done a lot of soul-searching—figuratively speaking—over the last couple weeks. Contrary to popular opinion, he hadn’t lost himself in a bottle or in violence. This time, Spike really did want to know what the bloody hell he was supposed to do about the Slayer, without the liquor informing his decisions. When he added up his fear, plus the Slayer’s right hook, with his mouth for good measure, the equation didn’t add up to lasting love and affection.

 

He’d done the math. It was a recipe for madness and despair.

 

And it didn’t change his desire or love for her one iota. One of these days, however, he’d piss her off even more than he had the other night, and she’d leave him. Or stake him. Spike actually preferred the latter option.

 

The doctor came out into the waiting room just then, interrupting his gloomy train of thought. “Nika?”

 

Nika stood quickly. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

 “Why don’t we have a seat?” he suggested. Once they were all settled, he said, “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will be fine. There was some damage to the muscles, of course, and one of the tendons was severed. We were able, however, to repair it. I think he’ll make a full recovery.”

 

Nika smiled, and Buffy released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Spike spoke up. “How long’s he goin’ to be out of commission?”

 

“That’s hard to say, really,” the doctor replied. “I’ve seen a number of these cases come through—not with the exact same injury, of course, but similar. It could be months, or even up to a year before he regains full range of motion, but much of that is dependent upon the individual.”

 

He stood. “I’m afraid they’re expecting me in the OR for another patient shortly.”

 

“Can I see him?” Nika asked quickly.

 

“I don’t see why not.” The doctor smiled encouragingly. “I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing you there when he wakes up. No other guests until he’s moved into another room, though.”

 

Nika glanced at Spike. “I need to—”

 

“Go, luv. We’ll catch some rest and come relieve you tomorrow sometime.” Spike glanced at the clock. “Actually, it’ll be today after the sun sets.” As Nika disappeared down the hall towards the recovery room, Spike turned to Buffy. “I’ll give you a ride home. You look about done in.”

 

The Slayer nodded, and then said quietly. “I’m not so tired that we can’t talk, Spike, and I think we need to.”

 

“If that’s what you want.”


	27. Late March/April 2006

Buffy shut the door behind Spike, and then turned to face him. “Do you want something to drink?”

 

“No, ‘m fine.”

 

They seemed to be at an impasse yet again, and both wondered if this was the way it would always be. If words would always hang unspoken between them, if the past would remain a burden. “Did you mean it when you said this wasn’t working?” Buffy asked in a small voice.

 

Spike refused to meet her eyes. “Don’t know what else to say, luv.”

 

Buffy had lost enough boyfriends to know the signs, to know the leaden feeling in her gut as one more man walked out of her life. She’d felt it when Angel walked away after they’d defeated the Mayor; she’d felt it watching Riley ascend on that stupid helicopter.

 

But she’d never felt it with Spike before—Buffy had always been the one to leave Spike. The last time, she’d left him in an alley for the sun to find, and he had disappeared.

 

“Isn’t there something I can say to change your mind?” Buffy asked, her voice breaking.

 

“What could you say, Slayer?” Spike’s shoulders slumped. “What could you possibly say that hasn’t been said before? I don’t see how we can keep doin’ this. ‘s gonna kill me.”

 

Buffy stared at him. “And it wouldn’t kill me? Spike, you’re the one that walked away the other night. If you’d stayed—”

 

“If I’d stayed—what?” he demanded. “We get into a fight an’ then we shag? We bring down another bleedin’ house so you can run out the next morning? What do you want from me, Buffy? Tell me that, an’ maybe we’ve got a chance, but don’t tell me you don’t know. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured out _why_ you want me around yet.”

 

“Spike—”

 

He continued, relentlessly. “Because I need to know that when your kid comes you aren’t goin’ to decide that ol’ Spike isn’t the kind of role model you want ‘round your little one. Send me packin’ like you did with Dawn, after you got back from the grave. Let me take care of her, love her, an’ then tell me I can’t see her anymore, ‘cause ‘m not a good influence.”

 

Buffy blinked, feeling as though she’d been slapped. She hadn’t even thought about that. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind,” she said honestly.

 

Spike was still staring at her, not saying anything, and Buffy walked past him into the living room. She hugged herself, unwilling to look at him. This is what it came down to. She had never been good with words, preferring to use action instead. “I want a do-over,” she whispered suddenly. Whirling to face him, her eyes begged him to understand. “When you’re a kid, and you screw up a game, you can ask for a do-over, and then you get to start again with a clean slate. I want to knock down that old house again with you and do things differently this time.”

 

His tone almost gentle, Spike asked, “And why with me, Slayer?”

 

“Because it’s you,” Buffy replied. “Because I can’t get you out of my head or my heart. It’s the way you treat Dawn and Nika, the way you’ve built this family that I’m so completely envious of. It’s your strength and how far you’ve come since we met in that alley. It’s the fact that no one has ever made me quite as miserable, or quite as happy as you do. It’s because I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life—no matter how long or short it might be—with anyone else.”

 

She was crying now, desperately afraid that what she said wouldn’t be enough to tie him to her. That her love wouldn’t be enough, just like it had never been enough before. Blinded by her tears, Buffy didn’t even see Spike approaching her, but suddenly his arms were there, cradling her gently to his chest. “Hush, now, luv,” he murmured. “’m not goin’ anywhere. How could I leave my girl?”

 

Buffy lifted her face to him, her cheeks wet. She was certain that her skin was probably splotchy, and her eyes were red. Spike didn’t seem to mind, however, and his lips covered hers, his kiss gradually becoming more insistent. “We won’t take down the house,” he whispered, “but you’ve got your do-over, Buffy.”

 

Their hands, their lips, roamed freely. Somehow they managed to stumble up the stairs to Buffy’s bedroom. “Don’t walk away again,” she pleaded. “I’d rather have a knock-down, drag-out fight, and get it figured out, but don’t leave.”

 

“You want me to stay?” Spike asked, pausing to look her in the eyes, all motion stilled. “For all of it?”

 

She smiled. “I was going to ask you to be my birthing coach before our fight.” When Spike still looked a little puzzled, Buffy said quietly, “For everything. For always. I love you.”

 

Spike nodded and gave her a little smile. “For always then.”

 

The night was exquisite. Spike had always wondered what it would be like when Buffy finally allowed him to make love to her, and now he knew. They moved as one, their prior experience giving them an intimate knowledge of the other’s body. At the same time, it was all different. Both of them had changed, their bodies were just a little different. Spike marveled at the new bulge in the Slayer’s abdomen; Buffy kissed each new scar on his milk-white skin.

 

It was slow and luxurious; it felt like coming home.

 

Best of all, for Spike at least, when it was all over, Buffy gave a sleepy, contented sigh and snuggled up close. “Don’t go tonight.”

 

Spike glanced at her curtains, heavy-duty floor-to-ceiling affairs. Their appearance had taken on new meaning to him now. “I’ll stay as long as you like.”

 

“You already know what I like,” Buffy said, slipping down into sleep. “Forever.”

 

Spike swallowed, brushing her hair away from her face. “’Til the end of the world.”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley emerged from the darkness to a familiar feeling of being foggy both from drugs and pain. After a moment, he remembered the fight at the club, the vampires, leaping in front of a flying pipe to keep it from hitting Buffy. Subsequent events got a little fuzzy; Wesley very vaguely remembered a worried Nika telling him he would need surgery, and then—

 

And then nothing until now. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. The last time he was in the hospital, it had not been a pleasant experience, and not because of his injury either. He was more than half afraid that this newest injury would find Nika doing a runner on him.

 

“Hey, _cariad_. You in there?”

 

It was her voice. Wesley opened his eyes with effort. Lack of both contacts and glasses had her face fuzzy, but it was hers, and she was smiling down at him. He tried to say her name, but it came out as a croak. “You want some water?” Wesley nodded and waited for her to help him drink. “You’re going to be fine, you know, but the anesthesia affects everyone differently. Plus, they’ve got you on the good drugs, with an antibiotics chaser to prevent infection. So if you’re feeling doped up, it’s a good thing.”

 

“I am,” he managed. “How bad is it?”

 

“Not bad,” Nika reassured him. “There was some damage, but nothing permanent.” She smiled. “You’ll have a nifty new scar though.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, remembering now that Nika and her partner had been the paramedics on scene.

 

She frowned. “Don’t be stupid, Wesley,” Nika said sharply. She could see his worry and his doubt outlined clearly on his face. “I told you I’d accepted the risks, and you’re going to be fine.”

 

“But—”

 

“I love you,” she said fiercely. “I wish I wasn’t sitting here right now. I wish we were safe and sound at home, in our own bed. But I would rather be with you here in the hospital than anywhere without you.”

 

Wesley blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

 

“Nonsense,” Nika said, running a thumb over his cheekbones, pretending not to notice the moisture in his eyes. “As if you wouldn’t be in my exact position, were the situation reversed.”

 

Wesley’s eyes drooped as the pain meds took affect again. “How long—”

 

“A few days, at most,” she assured him. “I promise to spring you as soon as possible.”

 

“Danika, will you stay?” he asked, hating to sound weak, and yet not wanting to be alone, to wake up alone. He couldn’t wake up alone again in a cold hospital room.

 

Her hand was soothing. “Someone will be here each time you wake, Wesley, _fy nghariad i_. You are not alone.”

 

Wesley slipped under, comforted by that knowledge.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike hadn’t slept at all, preferring to watch Buffy sleep. She hadn’t stirred all night, staying curled up next to him, her breath coming slowly and evenly. He wasn’t quite ready to believe that this was real, that Buffy wouldn’t wake up and demand that he leave.

 

He sighed, although it wasn’t altogether a happy one. The Slayer was in his blood again, his heart, his brain. He was drowning in her all over again. If only she would keep her promise. If only it meant forever—but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Even if she was with him until the day she died, death would still come for her. Again. They said the third time was the charm, and this time Spike wasn’t sure he would survive it.

 

And yet—Spike threw a quick glance at her to make sure she was still asleep, and spread his hand over her warm skin, the rise in her stomach where the baby was. “Guess I’ll be around a while,” he murmured, wondering if he was an idiot for speaking to an unborn child. “Your mum’s got a dangerous job, but ‘m goin’ to take care of her for you. Told her I’d take care of you, too. So I’ll be here for a long time to come.”

 

“I like that plan.”

 

Spike glanced up, startled, to see Buffy smiling at him. “Buffy, I—”

 

She silenced him with a gentle finger to his lips. “Do me a favor and think before you say anything. So far, it’s been perfect, and I’d hate to get angry with you.”

 

The vampire smiled around her finger. “Perfect, huh? That right?”

 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

 

“Did you mean what you said?” Spike asked, a hopeful note in his voice. “About wantin’ me to be your birthin’ coach?”

 

“I meant it.” Buffy ran a hand over his sharp cheekbones, and then his mussed hair. “If you don’t want to, I’ll understand, but I wish you would.”

 

“Don’t know how good I’ll be, but I’ll give it a try, yeah?” He smiled at her, and Buffy was awestruck at the gentleness of him. Not that he was soft in a bad or weak way, but he was different. She wondered if this was how he might have been given a chance by the Scoobies to change in the company of the group.

 

“If you try, I’m sure it will turn out wonderfully.” Buffy tangled her fingers in his curls, finding them irresistible. “How’s your leg today? You were limping pretty good last night.”

 

He shrugged off the question. “I was a bit tired. It’ll be fine.”

 

Buffy remembered what she’d said to him in the park, demanding to know why he hadn’t been faster, and felt shame. “The limp—it’s not going to go away?”

 

“’s been three years,” Spike sighed, laying his head down on the bed next to her, relaxing into the feeling of her fingers in his hair. “Nika said it had somethin’ to do with brain injuries not healin’ in anybody, even vampires. She thought the doc damaged me when he took the chip out.”

 

Buffy was quiet. “Would you feed from me?”

 

Spike’s head snapped up, throwing off her hand. “Are you out of your bleedin’ mind?”

 

She lifted an eyebrow. “It was just a question, Spike. Remember what I said about not getting angry?”

 

Spike fixed her with a glare. “’s not just a question. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to a vampire when you ask that. An’ to answer your question, no. I don’t want to bite you. I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be nice, but you need all your blood right now.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to,” she said, a little more sharply than she had intended. Buffy softened her tone. “It would have to be after I had the baby. I was just wondering.”

 

Spike wanted to tell her in very plain language _not_ to wonder things like that, but he hadn’t the heart. Truth be told, he’d love to taste Slayer’s blood again, this time willingly given. What a rush that would be. But could he stop? Would he even want to? “Dunno,” he finally said. “Be a bit dangerous, yeah?”

 

“Slayer blood, though,” Buffy replied softly. “And I trust you.”

 

Spike understood what she was saying, that it was a possibility that his limp would disappear with the influx of Slayer blood. He had to admit it was likely even, but not something he wanted. “Not that I don’t ‘preciate the offer, luv, but ‘m used to it by now. ‘sides—” He paused, unsure of how to explain that it was a physical reminder. Vampires changed so little, but Spike was a physical person. He liked to have tactile reminders of moments of change: his first Slayer and the scar, his second and the coat. Buffy and the chip and this limp, they were all connected. They all reminded him of the road he had traveled. It was impossible to put into words.

 

“’m okay.”

 

Buffy saw the varying expressions flicker across his face, but couldn’t read them. She wasn’t going to argue, however. Maybe, after the baby was born, things would be different, but until then she’d have to demonstrate her love in other ways. “You know, I think I could stand to get cleaned up.”

 

Spike pulled back reluctantly, looking over at the curtains. It was daylight outside, and he didn’t have any clean clothes at Buffy’s house, which meant he was pretty much stuck. “Yeah, you go get cleaned up, Slayer. I’ll just—”

 

“Join me?”

 

Spike blinked, and a satisfied smile spread over his face. “Now that sounds like a very good plan.”

 

“What can I say?” Buffy said slyly. “I’m all about the water conservation.”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley woke several times through the course of the day, each time finding Nika a constant presence by his bedside. He didn’t feel quite as groggy as he had when he was first coming around in the recovery room, but the pain medications weren’t conducive to being mentally alert or even aware.

 

The third or fourth time he woke, late in the day, it wasn’t Nika he found next to his bed, but Angel.

 

Wesley knew they were on fairly friendly terms, even if they were not the best of friends, but he couldn’t help feel a rush of fear and adrenaline that sharpened his senses. He also knew that Angel couldn’t help but sense it. “It’s okay, Wes.”

 

“Where’s Danika?”

 

“She left to get some dinner. I wanted to see you, and she said I could wait here while she went to the cafeteria.” Angel looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Wesley lied. He wanted Nika, and he was hardly able to believe that she would leave him with Angel.

 

The lines in the vampire’s face deepened. “Look, Wes, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize me being here would be that much of a disturbance. I can go.”

 

Wesley took a deep breath. “No, really, Angel. I’ll be fine. You just—startled me, is all.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Would you quit saying that?” Wesley snapped. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

 

Angel looked at him steadily. “Actually, there is.”

 

Opening his mouth to reply, Wesley checked himself. He still owed the vampire, after all. If Angel needed closure, who was he to deny it to him? Angel realized the injured man was planning on remaining silent and forged ahead. “Connor told me about what happened. I guess Buffy told Dawn earlier, and she told him. I wanted—I just realized that this might be the best time I would have to talk to you alone.”

 

“What did you want to say, Angel?”

 

Angel was relieved by Wesley’s almost gentle tone. “I know it’s too late,” he admitted quietly. “I always thought that I could come to you whenever I felt like it, whenever I was ready, and one day I realized that you’d moved on.” Angel sighed. “I wanted to tell you that I know why you took Connor, but now I can understand. I can accept and I can forgive, because I’ve realized what you did, you did out of love. I’ve done worse and had no good reason.”

 

Wesley hadn’t thought having Angel’s forgiveness would mean anything. It had been so long, and he had come so far. In fact, he had been able to tell himself that he didn’t need Angel’s forgiveness or anything else. Now that absolution had been offered, Wesley found himself trying to choke back tears.

 

“Angel—”

 

“Are we still friends, Wes?” Angel asked wistfully. “I’m not saying things are ever going to be the same, but are we okay?”

 

There was a small, spiteful part of Wesley that wanted to throw Angel’s words back in his teeth, to make him realize that nothing would ever make up for a murder attempt and years of exile.

 

But that was just it. Nothing would make up for it, just as nothing would make up for his taking Connor. As Nika had said not so long ago, Angel being an idiot had led him to her and to Spike. “We’re okay, Angel.”

 

“He botherin’ you, Wesley?” Spike had appeared in the doorway, looking better than he’d looked in two weeks. He was scowling at the larger vampire as though he was ready to start a fight in Wesley’s hospital room.

 

Wesley smiled. “No, Spike. Angel was just keeping me company until Nika got back.”

 

Spike frowned, disappointed that he wasn’t going to be allowed to kick Angel’s ass. “Right then. I sent Nika home. Ran into her in the hall, an’ she was lookin’ pretty drug out.”

 

“I should go,” Angel said, standing. “If Spike’s going to be here.”

 

The two vampires eyed each other as Spike moved slightly to let Angel pass. “Take care of him, will you, Spike?”

 

Spike glared at Angel suspiciously and then unbent enough to nod. “I try.” He watched until he was certain Angel was gone, and then sat down in the chair next to Wesley’s bed. “You feelin’ alright, mate?”

 

“Much better, thank you,” Wesley replied. “And you?”

 

Spike tried to look nonchalant, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Buffy an’ I made up,” he confessed. “We spent the day together.”

 

“You got some sleep I hope,” Wesley said, a touch of acid in his tone, although he didn’t mean it.

 

“We took a nap this afternoon,” was all Spike would admit to. “She asked me to be there when the baby’s born, be her birthin’ coach or some such.”

 

“That’s wonderful, Spike,” Wesley replied sincerely.

 

Spike hesitated. “You an’ Angel… You’re not goin’ back are you?”

 

“Going back to Angel Investigations would be like you going back to Sunnydale,” Wesley said softly. “That isn’t who we are anymore.” He frowned. “Where is Buffy, by the way? I would think you two wouldn’t want to lose sight of each other. Besides, you hardly have to stay. I’m quite alright.”

 

Spike shrugged, lifting an eyebrow. “Nika said you didn’t want to be alone, an’ this is fine. Buffy’s out in the hall. Think she wanted to talk to Angel for a minute.”

 

“You don’t sound too concerned.” Not that Wesley thought Spike ought to be worried, but it surprised him that the vampire didn’t seem to mind.

 

“You’re not hearin’ what I’m hearin’.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy sighed. Every time she’d seen Angel recently he’d given her the same speech, wondering why she would want to be with Spike. It was like Xander all over again, only with more leather. “Spike and I are together. Get over it, Angel.”

 

Angel frowned. “But, Buffy, he doesn’t have a soul.”

 

“And there were certainly times when I had my doubts about Cordelia having one,” Buffy replied, more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “We’ve been over for a long time now. We’ve both moved on. Who we moved on to is our business and no one else’s.”

 

“Can he really make you happy?”

 

“He already has.” Buffy glanced down the hall towards Wesley’s room. Spike was there, and her ex-Watcher who was becoming a good friend, and Nika, who was like having an older sister of her own. It was a family, a new one, and Buffy thought about the only other family she had in L.A. Not Dawn—Dawn as her family was as much a choice as Spike or any of the others. No, she was talking blood relation, and she thought it might be time to lay that particular demon to rest.

 

Buffy looked at Angel, realizing with a sense of relief that they were done. What was left of their relationship was a bare glimmer compared to what she and Spike shared. It was really and truly over. “I should go see Wesley,” she said quietly. “It was good to see you again, Angel. Feel free to call sometime if you and Cordelia want to go on a double date with Spike and me.”

 

It was a tongue-in-cheek offer, as Buffy knew he’d never take her up on it, but Angel surprised her by smiling. “I might just do that one of these days. Bye, Buffy.”

 

“Goodbye, Angel.”

 

They both recognized the ending for what it was.

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay, so you’re doin’ alright, then?” Spike asked Wesley. “You don’t need anything else?”

 

“I’m fine, Spike,” he replied with well-concealed impatience. “Why don’t you go see Buffy?”

 

Spike shrugged. “She’s comin’ over here. We’re watchin’ movies tonight, if you want to join us.” Nika had left earlier, but she had left strict instructions for the care of ex-Watchers. It had only been a week since Wesley had been released from the hospital, and she was still a little overprotective. Wesley sighed. He understood her concern, but he was getting just a little tired of being looked after. “Buffy’s bringin’ the ice cream,” Spike added. “An’ Connor an’ Dawn are comin’ too.”

 

“Why the party?” he asked suspiciously.

 

The vampire gave every appearance of complete innocence. “No reason.”

 

“Spike, you know I don’t like surprises.”

 

Spike grinned at the severe tone. “Which is why ‘m givin’ you a heads-up. Thought we’d put together a little welcome-home party, knowin’ how much you love bein’ in hospital.”

 

Wesley was stunned. “A—what?”

 

Spike sighed, explaining patiently. “Look, mate, we all know this wasn’t nearly as serious as it could have been, but it was still a bit scary. We wanted to make sure you knew how much we’d hate losin’ you. Nika said we could have a party, but she made us wait till you were feelin’ a bit stronger so you’d be up for it.” He grinned. “She even got the night off. In fact, she’s pickin’ up the pizza even as we speak.”

 

Wesley stared at him, and then smiled. “So this was supposed to be a surprise party?”

 

“Not really,” Spike replied. “Bit more low-key, you know. ‘s just s’posed to be us, an’ some movies, but we’re celebratin’. Also thought I should let you know that Connor volunteered his time to take over for you on the physical. We’ll still need your great squishy frontal lobes, of course, but you’ll need to take it easy for a while, an’ I know you wouldn’t be happy if I went out without backup.”

 

“Angel—”

 

“Can do without the boy,” Spike said firmly. “’sides, we’re payin’ him a bit, an’ Angel isn’t. Connor said he wanted a summer job ‘fore he starts college, an’ this was good as any. Better, really, considerin’ the boy’s skills.”

 

Wesley wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond. No one had ever thrown him a party before, not even Angel or the others. He had always supposed that he wasn’t the sort people had parties for; he was usually on the planning committee. Plus, he’d been worried about how Spike would cope without him, as he wouldn’t be able to go out in the field for a while, and he’d been feeling just a little useless as a result. Now—“Spike…”

 

“No need,” the vampire said gently. Really, he hadn’t told Wesley because he knew the other man didn’t like surprises. It was more because Spike knew how much he hated getting emotional in front of others. He could relate. “We take care of each other, Wesley. ‘s what we do.”

 

Wesley took a deep breath, moving his good arm to clasp Spike’s shoulder. “Yes, it is.”


	28. April 2006

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you, luv?” Spike was watching Buffy with a concerned look on his face. “I don’t mind.”

 

“I know you don’t,” she replied, smiling at him. They were over at his place, in the basement. Connor was supposed to accompany Spike later that evening on a job, and he was driving Dawn over. Buffy and her sister were meeting their father for dinner.

 

Although a couple of weeks had passed since Wesley’s injury, Spike and the others were making certain that he didn’t have a chance to hurt himself again. The doctors were pleased with the healing process, but Wesley was only human, and was nowhere near ready to be risking his shoulder. The ex-Watcher didn’t like to admit it, but it would probably be August or September before he was ready for fieldwork.

 

Buffy’s pregnancy had progressed enough that she was being a lot more cautious about what slaying she did. That left Spike and Connor to take up most of the slack, with Dawn providing occasional back-up. Wesley might not be pleased to be stuck home with the books, but he wasn’t arguing about it either.

 

The Slayer had been planning this meeting with her dad for the last couple weeks, ever since seeing Angel in the hospital. She’d managed to achieve a kind of closure there, and with most of the other guys who had left her. Her father was a different story though, and he had been the first. Dawn had wanted to see him as well, as she had no memories of him other than those the monks had given her. Buffy had yet to let him know of her pregnancy—or, at least he hadn’t known until she’d spoken with him on the phone to arrange a meeting.

 

Spike had offered to accompany her several times, but Buffy kept refusing. This was something she and Dawn had to do by themselves. “It’s not that I’m ashamed of our relationship, Spike,” she reassured him now. “It’s just that it’s going to be difficult enough with just Dawn and me.”

 

“I know, luv,” he replied quickly. Buffy had been open with her friends, her Watcher, everyone in her life who mattered. Spike personally didn’t feel her father rated even a phone call, but if she felt that’s what she needed to do, he wasn’t going to stand in her way. “Just thought you might let me eat the wanker.”

 

Buffy laughed. “So I could collect the insurance money?” she teased, her grin broadening when she saw Spike’s shocked look. He was always surprised when she didn’t react to his eating-people comments. “No, I’ve got the pension from the Council now, so it’s not like I need it. Besides, I have a feeling that he’s going to be so disappointed to find out that his unwed daughter’s pregnant, that I probably won’t see him again.” She frowned. “Not like he’s been involved in our lives in recent history.”

 

Spike stood, pulling her in close. “He’s a first-rate tosser, that one. How he could leave not one, but three Summers women. I’ll never understand.”

 

“Because you’re the one who stays,” Buffy murmured, returning the embrace. A tattered paperback, half-hidden by the sofa cushion, caught her eye. “What’s this?” she asked, scooting around him to investigate. She held up the book, reading the title out loud. “_What to Expect When You’re Expecting_? Spike—”

 

“Nika gave it to me,” he mumbled quickly.

 

Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow, quickly flipping through the pages. She’d read the same book herself, and realized that Spike’s copy included highlighted segments and notes in the margin. Notes in the same handwriting that had arrived on the envelopes for Dawn every other week for three years. “Uh huh.”

 

“So I asked her to get it,” Spike said, snatching the book away, his grumbling belied by the amused look in his eyes. Buffy realized that he was almost relieved at being caught out. “She said it might help if I read somethin’.”

 

The Slayer smiled at him softly. “I think it’s great. The classes are starting next week, so it’s a good idea.”

 

Spike swallowed. “Still don’t see why you want me, Buffy,” he confessed.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “There isn’t anyone else I’d rather have to watch my back. It’s a little different situation than usual, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

 

“Good to know,” Spike replied, trying to sound as though it didn’t matter, and failing miserably. They both heard Connor and Dawn from above. “We both need to go.”

 

“Be careful.” Buffy gave him a quick kiss, drawing on his love to get her through the evening. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

 

“Of course.” As they mounted the stairs, Spike, knowing her fears, whispered, “’m not goin’ anywhere, luv.”

 

~~~~~

 

The first thing both girls thought when they saw Hank Summers in the restaurant was that he looked old. Although it had been years since they had seen him, he looked older than they’d expected. Somehow, they both couldn’t help thinking that Joyce wouldn’t have appeared that old.

 

Hank didn’t look at all thrilled to be there. You might think a father would show some enthusiasm in meeting the daughters he hadn’t seen in eight years or more, but if he felt anything but faint discomfort, it wasn’t showing. Instead, the greetings were wary, and the conversation was stilted. Hank tried to tell Buffy how good she looked without sounding snide about her pregnancy, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. He was much more excited about Dawn and her scholarship to UCLA, and both Buffy and Dawn noticed the favoritism that he was displaying. He asked a number of questions about Dawn’s major, the people she was meeting, and made a number of comments about how proud he was of her, while not saying much of anything to Buffy.

 

All three had ordered their food and had begun eating by the time Hank had finished talking about his work and latest girlfriend after Dawn’s stiff answers shut down his line of questioning. “So, Buffy,” he began, “where’s the father?”

 

Buffy hid a wince. She was getting a little tired of answering that question. It might be the 21st century, but it seemed it still had to be asked by everyone she knew. “He’s not in the picture.”

 

“What?” Hank stared at her. “Have you spoken to a lawyer, Buffy?”

 

Buffy shook her head, determined to get through this. Seeing that her sister was about to say something—probably not something very nice—she sent Dawn a warning look. “It’s not necessary, Dad. We agreed that it’s for the best. I have some good friends in town that will help me.”

 

Hank looked scandalized. “Buffy, he can’t just abandon you. If nothing else, he should be paying child support.”

 

“What, like you did?” Dawn said, not quite under her breath. Buffy stepped down hard on her foot under the table.

 

“We agreed, Dad. I signed the papers. Like I said, I have friends who are going to help me, and I would rather my child have no father than someone who isn’t going to be there for her.”

 

Her statement came out more sharply than Buffy had intended, and on the tail of Dawn’s comment, she could tell that it cut deeply. “Buffy—”

 

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t trying to point fingers or anything like that, really. This was my decision, and I’m okay with it.”

 

Hank nodded, his face still tight with anger. “Of course. As long as you’re going to be taken care of.”

 

“No thanks to you.”

 

“Dawn!”

 

Both Hank and Buffy spoke at once, but Dawn didn’t look as though she wanted to back down any time soon. “What? It’s true.” She glared at her father. “It’s not like you’ve done anything for us since the divorce. I don’t see where you get off telling Buffy her ex is a loser. Pot, kettle, much?”

 

Hank cleared his throat. “Dawn, you don’t understand. It’s complicated. These are adult things, and—”

 

“And I’m not an adult?” she asked incredulously. When Buffy tried to catch her eye, Dawn shook her head. “No, Buffy, I’m tired of this. I’m tired of sitting here and hoping things will get better because Dad finally decides we’re worth something to him. Well, Dad, guess what? I had to grow up pretty quick when you left and Mom died. There wasn’t much of a choice.”

 

Hank looked around uncomfortably. “Dawn, this isn’t the time.”

 

“I think it is,” Dawn said firmly. “Because I don’t think I’m going to have any desire to see you after this. I have some really good guys in my life right now who are there for me. You left. You didn’t even come back for the funeral. There wasn’t any money, because you weren’t going to help us out. Buffy had to drop out of school. If I hadn’t gotten a scholarship, I probably wouldn’t have been able to go to college.”

 

She stood, setting her napkin down on her plate, which was still half-full. “Newsflash, Dad. I don’t need you. I’m doing pretty good on my own.” Dawn looked at her sister. “I’m going to call Wesley to pick me up. I don’t think I want to stay.”

 

“That’s fine, Dawnie,” Buffy said softly, knowing that her sister was old enough to make that decision on her own.

 

“Dawn—”

 

Dawn looked at Hank, who seemed to want to do something so that the evening didn’t end on such a sour note. “Sorry, Dad. I’m not going to hug you just to make you feel better.”

 

Buffy watched as she walked out of the restaurant, her head held high. “Buffy!” Hank looked betrayed. “She can’t talk to me that way. I’m her father.”

 

She laughed wearily. “No, Dad. I think you gave up that right a long time ago.” At the look on his face, she raised an eyebrow. “What? Are you going to blame Dawn’s behavior on me? I did my best, but I’m not her mom.”

 

“Buffy, you know I’m sorry about missing your mother’s funeral. I just couldn’t get back.” Hank wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

 

“I understand, Dad. I really do,” Buffy replied. “That doesn’t change the fact that what Dawn said is true.” She took a deep breath. “I thought you might want to know that you’re going to be a grandfather. I wasn’t expecting anything from you, though.”

 

“Buffy…” Hank stopped. “I’m glad you told me. Are you really okay?”

 

“I have someone in my life right now who is very important to me,” Buffy replied. “We take care of each other.”

 

“A new man?” Hank asked before he could stop himself.

 

“No, actually an old one,” Buffy said with a smile. “We’ve known each other for a long time, and he’s been in love with me for a long time now. It’s good, and he’s ready to help me with the baby. We’re not ready to be parents, of course, but I don’t think anyone ever is.” She stood slowly. “I’ll give you my address. You can stop by sometime if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind seeing you, but if you get too busy, I’ll understand.”

 

Hank sighed. “Buffy, I’m sorry for how things turned out.”

 

“So am I.”

 

She left her father sitting at the table and walked outside, her arms hugging her sides. Buffy knew they’d drawn several stares in the restaurant, but she understood Dawn’s anger. Her sister had been a lot younger when Hank had left, and had fewer memories of the good times. It probably didn’t help that Dawn knew her memories had been fabricated. With Buffy and Joyce and the others, it hadn’t mattered so much after a while; they’d made new memories of their own, good and bad. With her father, there had been no such opportunity, mostly as a result of his own selfishness.

 

Dawn was already gone by the time Buffy got outside, and she wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. In some ways, she was grateful to her sister for cutting through the bullshit and stating how she really felt. On the other hand, hoping Hank Summers would one day come to his senses had been a cherished fantasy of hers for years.

 

Buffy sighed. She wasn’t looking forward to the drive home. It would be a long, lonely ride, since she’d let her dad pick the restaurant for his convenience and not hers.

 

“Hello, luv.”

 

She’d known he was there when she stepped outside. Buffy always knew when Spike was close. “Hey.” She turned to see him emerging from the darkness, like a shadow detaching itself from the night. Buffy never could understand how he managed to hide himself with that bright hair. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Connor—”

 

“Didn’t take us long,” Spike explained, coming to stand beside her. “I’d just gotten back from droppin’ him off when the Bit called Wesley. Thought I’d catch a ride over here with him an’ then keep you company tonight.”

 

“That was quick,” Buffy commented, talking about the speed at which they’d dispatched their evening’s assignment.

 

Spike shrugged. “Hell-Boy’s a good partner. You should see that lad with an ax. ‘s somethin’ to behold.”

 

Buffy looked over at him, hearing the pride in his voice and seeing it in his face. She suddenly caught a glimpse of him in the future, talking about her child, speaking like a proud parent. He would dote, of course, because he didn’t know how to do anything else. With Spike, it was an all or nothing love, and it would be all, she was certain of it.

 

Even if it was the only thing in her life she could be certain of.

 

“Here,” he said gently, holding out his hand. “Why don’t you let me drive you home, Buffy?”

 

She handed him the keys without protest, and then let him take her hand. No one made her feel protected the way Spike did; no one else allowed her to be weak without making her feel guilty. He was a perfect gentleman, opening her car door for her, waiting until she was seated before closing it. Once he was in the driver’s seat and had pulled out of the parking lot, Spike reached over and took her hand again, somehow understanding her need for physical contact.

 

“Was Dawn okay?” she asked, breaking the silence.

 

Spike nodded. “Looked a bit upset, but she’ll be fine. Wesley’ll take care of her.”

 

Oddly enough, Buffy didn’t have any doubt of it. She laughed shortly at that realization—the idea that Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was fully capable of taking care of an upset 19 year old would have been laughable at one point. These days, she’d say Wesley was equipped to handle about anything. When Spike shot her a questioning look, Buffy explained, “You didn’t know Wes back in Sunnydale. That Wes probably would have run screaming from a crying female. He wasn’t capable of much of anything.”

 

“People change.”

 

“Yeah, they do.” Buffy took a firmer grip on Spike’s hand and let herself drift away to the sound of tires on pavement. “Sometimes even for the better,” she murmured.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn shot Spike a grateful smile as he got out and held the door for her while she took his place in the passenger seat. Spike would take care of Buffy when she emerged from the restaurant. Wesley didn’t say anything as he pulled away from the curb. It wasn’t until they’d reached the first red light that he broke the silence. “I take it the meeting didn’t go well.”

 

“You could say that,” Dawn sighed, leaning her head against the window, catching a glimpse of herself. She looked like a girl on the verge of tears, which was appropriate. “It was just—Buffy was always Dad’s favorite, you know? I mean, it wasn’t a big deal, really. She was just a daddy’s girl, and I wasn’t as much. And tonight, he kept looking at me like I was special, and he was hardly talking to her at all. Then, he starts in on her about Peter, and it just pissed me off. I mean, like he has room to talk. He was the one who left us.”

 

Wesley looked over at the girl next to him. Over the last months of knowing both Summers girls, he’d gotten a fairly good handle on their personalities. Buffy might be the Slayer, but in some ways, Dawn was the spunkier of the two, and she had matured quickly. “Let me guess. You gave him a piece of your mind.”

 

“Yeah.” Dawn let the silence stretch on. “I couldn’t stand him talking to Buffy like that. It was stupid. He was being stupid.”

 

Wesley considered her words for a moment. Somehow he knew she was waiting for him to placate her, to tell her that things would be better, that she could still make up with her dad. He didn’t think that was what she wanted, however, and it wasn’t what he was thinking. “I admire you.”

 

“Huh?” Dawn’s head snapped over to look at him.

 

“I admire you,” Wesley repeated. “Sometimes it takes more bravery to end an important relationship than it does to keep it going. I wish I had your courage.”

 

Wesley’s words had been meant to comfort, and they did, but Dawn’s tears perversely started to flow. His words told her that he understood conflicted feelings about fathers, and it was always easier to cry in the presence of someone who understood.

 

Wesley carefully took the steering wheel with the hand that emerged from his sling and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief with his good hand. Handing it to her, he simply waited until she could get herself under control.

 

Dawn gave a shaky laugh at the emergence of the hanky. It seemed that English gentlemen were never without their handkerchiefs, even if they were rumpled expatriates. She wiped at her eyes and then blew her nose. “Where are we?” she asked shakily, realizing she had no clue as to where they were going.

 

Wesley got a sheepish look on his face. “I thought—well, I thought perhaps you might like some ice cream. I’ve heard that’s a necessity in moments of great emotional upheaval.”

 

Dawn started laughing. Only Wesley could say something like that and get away with it. “Yeah. Ice cream is definitely in order. And Wes?”

 

“Yes, Dawn?”

 

“You’re a really good guy to have around in moments of great emotional upheaval.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy had been sound asleep for the last thirty minutes, so Spike pulled into her driveway carefully, not wanting to wake her. Hesitating, he debated the merits of carrying her inside, and then decided against it. Spike still wasn’t quite sure how much Buffy appreciated being pampered, and that might put him over the line. “Buffy-luv, we’re here. Gotta wake up now.”

 

She came awake slowly, blinking at him blearily. “Spike? Where—”

 

“Home.”

 

He watched as the information sank in, and Buffy gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry. I guess I wasn’t the best company.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Just bein’ with you is a gift, Buffy. Doesn’t matter if you’re sleepin’ or awake.” He didn’t add that the fact that she trusted him enough to see her safely home was also a gift. It wasn’t so long ago that she probably wouldn’t have even let him drive—at least, that’s how he felt.

 

Buffy sighed. “I should call Dawn and make sure she’s okay.”

 

“She called ‘bout fifteen minutes ago,” Spike reassured her. “She said to tell you she’s fine, an’ that she was goin’ out for ice cream with Wesley an’ then back to her dorm.” At Buffy’s questioning look, he explained, “I had it on silent ring.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy sat in the passenger seat. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to go inside to her empty house, and at the same time she didn’t want to ask Spike to stay. She thought she would end up sounding like a needy child, like she wasn’t strong enough to carry this burden.

 

“Do you want me to stay tonight, pet?” Spike asked softly. “Because if not, I can call for a ride.”

 

Buffy turned to meet his eyes, seeing that he knew her conflicting feelings. Spike always seemed to know. “Yeah. I’ll give you a ride home tomorrow. I just—”

 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Remember?”

 

“’Til the end of the world,” Buffy agreed. “You promised both of us.” She could let herself believe him now, tonight. She knew that it would be a long time before she didn’t need his reassurance, but for tonight she could believe.

 

~~~~~

 

“Are you certain you’ll be alright, Dawn?” Wesley asked, leaning over to look at her through the passenger window. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to stay the night at Nika’s.”

 

Dawn shook her head. “Thanks, Wesley, but I think the ice cream did the trick. I’ll be fine.” The ice cream had been good. He’d taken her to a small, out of the way place that had the best ice cream she’d ever had, and Dawn had laughed at his expression when he saw her concoction of raspberry fudge ripple, strawberries, whipped cream, and a cherry on top. Wesley had stuck to a sedate chocolate cone.

 

But he’d kept her in stitches the whole time with his dry humor, telling stories of when he’d been with Angel, and some of the vampire’s more embarrassing moments, plus a few more of Spike’s. Wesley had spun tales of the Watcher’s Academy, and his final test, which though gruesome, had been pretty tame compared to a normal day in Sunnydale. It was no wonder he’d been over his head.

 

In short, Wesley had done a bang-up job in making sure that her evening hadn’t been completely ruined. “Really,” she assured him again, her smile genuine. “I’m good.”

 

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything,” he replied.

 

Dawn assured him that she wouldn’t and then headed off for her dorm, hearing the sound of Wesley’s SUV pulling out behind her. Her shoulders slumped as she walked across campus, though. Spike would take care of Buffy, and Wesley had Nika, but Connor was probably in bed and asleep by now. Either that, or out fighting vampires and demons with Angel. She knew he’d come over if she asked—she could have even had Wesley drop her at the Hyperion—but she hated to sound as if she couldn’t take care of herself.

 

She was surprised to discover that the door to her room was unlocked, since her roommate spent most nights at her boyfriend’s place. She was more surprised to see Connor lounging on her bed, a battered paperback she recognized from one of her English classes in hand. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” she replied. “How’d you get in?”

 

“Your roommate let me in before she left. She said she was going to be out all night with what’s-his-name, and that I could stay till you got home. I was about ready to call you to make sure you were coming back though.”

 

Dawn came to sit next to him on the bed as Connor put down _The Tempest_ and swung his legs over to the floor. “I thought you were going to be out with Spike all night.”

 

“It was a piece of cake,” he replied, smiling a little. “Besides, dads can really suck sometimes.”

 

Dawn stared, sighing at the understanding in his eyes. “I’m glad you came.”

 

“Hey,” Connor said, grinning. “I brought _The Matrix_. I figured we could maybe watch a movie, and I could just stick around for a while.”

 

“All night?”

 

“That might have been the plan,” he acknowledged. “Was it bad?”

 

“Yeah,” Dawn replied. “But being with you makes it better.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Absolutely not,” Nika said sternly. “You’ll make the call with me present or not at all.”

 

Wesley glared at her. This was the first real disagreement they’d had to date, and it was centered around him calling his father for the annual birthday call. He wanted to take the call at his apartment, in private, where he had easy access to a bottle of bourbon afterward. Nika said she wasn’t going to let him brood about it because his father wasn’t worth it. Wesley disliked being told what he could and couldn’t do, even by Nika.

 

Sometimes, especially by Nika.

 

“I am not a child, Danika,” he said coldly. “And I am perfectly capable of speaking with my father alone.”

 

“No, you’re not,” she said bluntly. “I’m sorry, Wesley, but we both know what’s going to happen. Your father will end up being a git, and you’ll withdraw into yourself for the next couple of days. Forgive me, but I would rather not lose the pleasure of your company over your father’s birthday.”

When she put it that way, Wesley found it difficult to be angry, but he was still irritated. “Nika, I’m a grown man. You can’t always protect me.”

 

“But I will protect you when I can,” she said heatedly. “If our roles were reversed, what would you do?” His silence was all the answer she needed. “_Cariad_, make your call in whatever privacy you need, but please don’t run from me after. I would not let him touch you at all, had I anything to say about it.”

 

Wesley sighed. “I wish he couldn’t.” Sitting with Dawn the previous week after her disastrous visit with her father had reminded him of his annual duty. It had also reminded him that people were never free of the burdens their parents placed upon them. Even if he managed to rid himself of the weight of his childhood, Wesley knew he would never be free of the scars. “I wish I were as strong as Dawn and could simply walk away, but I cannot, Nika. It’s not in me.”

 

“No, duty and loyalty are too much a part of you for you to so easily renounce your father,” Nika murmured. “But you do not have to fight alone.”

 

His anger spent—most of it had been anxiety about making the call anyway—Wesley pulled her in for a hug. “Fine. You win. I’ll make the phone call with you present.”

 

“_Iawn da_,” Nika said, satisfaction in her voice. “Because I will hex him should he say anything mean.”

 

“I don’t think you can throw a hex that far,” Wesley replied.

 

Nika smiled. “I’ve never tried, but it would be an interesting experiment.” He shot her a reproving look, but she merely smiled and handed him the cordless. “And just think, _cariad_, you can tell him you’re using a friend’s line and cut the conversation short. I’m giving you a rather lovely excuse.”

 

Wesley hadn’t thought about that. “I suppose that’s true.” He dialed the familiar number, Nika puttering with pie crust in the background, and listened as it rang. There was a rather large piece of him that hoped his father wasn’t home and he could leave a message. Something along the lines of, “Happy birthday, Father. I’m engaged. We’ll send you an invitation.” That would do quite nicely, he thought.

 

No such luck. “Hello, Mother. Yes, it’s good to hear your voice. I, uh, was calling to talk to Father, actually…Good. I’m doing well…I do have some news, though. I’m engaged…She’s a very nice girl…Certainly, yes, I would like to speak to him…Hello, Father.”

 

Nika glanced over at him, noting that he’d unconsciously straightened himself, his accent got just a little more precise, and he was rubbing his jeans with the hand not holding the phone. She sighed, keeping an ear open for sounds of distress. “Yes, happy birthday, Father…No, I’m still an independent contractor…It’s actually going quite well…No, I do feel like I’m performing my duty. I’m helping—No, of course. You’re right. I don’t have the resources of the Council…Yes, I am getting married… She’s an American, actually, though she’s spent quite a bit of time in Wales…She’s a very nice…No, no, I realize that I’m very lucky to have her…”

 

It was _that_ tone in his voice again. Wesley sounded almost—defeated, and Nika pulled the phone out of his grip. Wesley shot her an alarmed look, but she wasn’t handing the phone back any time soon. “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce? This is Danika Owen, your son’s fiancée. I’m so sorry we have to meet over the phones like this. It’s hardly ideal.”

 

Nika listened to the old man splutter a little bit, telling her how nice it was that his son was finally doing his duty by the family in getting married, and hoping that she wasn’t pregnant and they weren’t rushing into things. “We’ve known each other for years now,” Nika said quickly, stifling any of his thinly disguised insinuations. “In fact, Wesley has been such a tower of strength for me. I really never thought I would fall in love again after the death of my husband. Vampires, you know.”

 

Wesley’s eyes were wide as he listened to her lay it on thick. His father was a gentleman, whatever else he might be, and there was no way he would make any more insinuations of that sort to a genuine widow. “Oh, yes, Wesley saved my life. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him. Well, both he and Spike.”

 

Wesley put his head into his hands, not knowing whether to despair or to hope that his father would have that heart attack he’d sometimes wished for. “Oh, you know Spike. William the Bloody? He and Wesley are partners. They hunt demons together. They’re becoming quite well known. I’ve been told Wesley is Death incarnate with an ax.”

 

By this point, Wesley was laughing weakly. Only Nika—and perhaps Spike—could so skillfully work the conversation around to make him look like a saint in the worst possible way in his father’s eyes. “No, he’s not evil. He lives in my basement.” She flashed Wesley a cheeky grin, and he could hear his father sputtering over the line. “Oh, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, the line is breaking up. I should really let you go, but it was certainly nice talking with you. I do hope you can come to the wedding. Angel and Spike will both be there, you know. I’m sure you won’t pass up a chance to meet two famous vampires. Ta-ta!”

 

Wesley wiped tears from his eyes. “My love, that was absolutely brilliant. My only regret is that I wasn’t able to see his face.”

 

“My only regret is that you really can’t throw a hex through the phone lines,” Nika said, though she was smiling. Her look grew somber after a moment though. “As fun as it might be to tweak the old man, Wesley, we haven’t heard the last from him or the Council. Our children—”

 

“Do not have a destiny,” Wesley replied quietly. “Should they spontaneously decide to become Watchers, I will not stop them, but I won’t encourage them in that direction either. Though, I have heard from Buffy that the Council has loosened up through the years. It did me no favors, however, and there is no room with them for the gray areas.”

 

“For people like Spike and Angel?” Nika asked knowingly, sitting in his lap and putting her head on his shoulder. “I won’t say I hadn’t thought about it. I know that Watchers are very heavily into tradition, after all. Your father will want a Wyndam-Pryce to carry on the name.”

 

“The name, yes. The role in the Council, probably not.” Wesley smiled, and it was a strange mixture of grim and hopeful. “I hope to entirely ruin our children. If I have anything to say about it, they will take after your side of the family.”

 

Nika laughed. “As long as they also take after you, _cariad annwyl_. That would be quite perfect.”


	29. August 2004

It hadn’t been a fun week for anyone. First, Spike and Wesley had both been infected with K’lagor venom, which, while it wasn’t deadly, made things decidedly uncomfortable for vampire and human alike. Then, the client who had hired them to take out said K’lagor refused to pay, and Spike had to go collect.

 

Now, Spike didn’t really mind playing the Big Bad in order to scare up their money, but it was the principle of the thing. He’d grown used to things running rather smoothly around Wesley, and he hated having to frighten someone into giving up what was theirs to begin with. If he’d been into scaring people to take their money, as he’d done when he had the chip in Sunnydale, that would have been a completely different story.

 

It was entertainment at that point.

 

Besides getting poisoned and having to play creditor, however, Spike was missing Dawn rather badly. He’d gotten another letter from her, detailing the events of the summer and full of excitement over her senior year. She was dating some new guy now, whom she was certain Spike would love.

 

Spike was quite sure he hated the guy.

 

He didn’t begrudge Dawn her senior year—far from it. What he did hate was the necessity of being in L.A. while she was in Sunnydale. He wanted to meet this guy she thought was so wonderful, maybe scare him a little. He wanted to be around for her Homecoming and her Prom, so he could scare her dates then too. Spike wanted to look over her homework, like he had the summer Buffy was gone.

 

He was more than a little tempted just to go down to Sunnydale and surprise her, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to resist the temptation to see Buffy. Who knew what the Slayer’s reaction to his presence would be?

 

So, Spike would not be going to Sunnyhell for any reason at all, not until he was certain he could avoid all temptation to seek Buffy out.

 

All of that would have been quite enough to make it a reasonably bad week, but then Nika got sick, and it was officially downgraded to rotten.

 

Dawn had been remarkably—thankfully—healthy all that long summer, so Spike had little experience caring for sick humans. He had the patience, thanks to his dealings with Drusilla, but no knowledge. And Nika was sick enough to cause him to put in a call to Wesley.

 

“How is she?” the other man asked as he entered the house. It was broiling outside, but Wesley always wore a jacket when he rode his bike. As he put it, if he fell, there was no reason he should have road rash _everywhere_.

 

The air conditioning inside was working overtime, but there was still the feel of the dog days of summer, and Wesley wasted no time in stripping off his jacket, revealing only a thin green t-shirt.

 

Spike shrugged. “Dunno, mate. Never looked after a sick human before. ‘s been a while anyway. She’s got a fever, an’ she can’t keep anythin’ down. That’s what woke me up this morning.”

 

Wesley frowned and followed Spike back to Nika’s bedroom. The woman was curled up on her side on the bed, covered by several blankets and shivering. “Danika,” he said gently. “Do you need us to take you to the doctor?”

 

“No,” she replied with a groan. “It’s just a flu bug. I’ll get over it. Just need some time.”

 

Wesley put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you certain? You’re quite warm, love.” The endearment slipped out without him even being aware of it.

 

“Spike’s hands feel better,” she murmured in response.

 

Wesley tensed, then relaxed as he realized what she meant. “His hands are colder,” he agreed. He turned back toward Spike. “Has she been drinking anything?”

 

Spike shook his head. “No. ‘ve been tryin’, but she’s havin’ trouble with her stomach.”

 

“Nika, you know you need to drink something. Do you have tea?” Wesley listened as she whispered something about her bag, and then nodded. “I’ll get something for you.”

 

Spike followed him out to the kitchen. “She goin’ to be okay?”

 

“I think so,” Wesley said. “I imagine she’s just caught a virus or something. These kinds of things just need to run their course.” He started rummaging around cupboards for the proper elements to make tea, and then checked her herb bag, located in the back of the pantry. As he started putting together the tea, Wesley caught Spike’s skeptical look. “What?”

 

“’s just, I know we’re Brits, an’ tea’s good for a lot, but…”

 

Wesley smiled. “Mint tea is supposed to be very good for stomach ailments,” he assured the vampire. “Hopefully, it will get Nika settled enough so that she’ll be able to keep something else down.”

 

Spike nodded. “Makes sense.” He watched the other man for a moment. “You think you could stick around for a while?”

 

Wesley gave him a sharp glance and could see the worry in Spike’s eyes. He couldn’t blame the vampire. Whatever Nika had, it was nasty, and Spike wasn’t really equipped to deal with human sickness. “Of course.” Wesley gave him a sympathetic look, knowing that Spike had been up all the previous night hunting down their errant client. “Have you been awake all day?”

 

“Didn’t want to leave her,” Spike replied in answer to the question. He might have added that he didn’t want to lose her, but that went without saying.

 

“She will be fine, Spike,” Wesley assured him again. “Nika might feel as though she would like to die, but I very much doubt that her life’s in danger. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’ll watch for a while.”

 

Spike sighed and rubbed tired eyes. “A bed sounds right nice,” he replied, then smiled. “Think ‘m getting soft. Was a day when I’d have gone for days without sleep an’ not even notice, an’ then I would have slept on anythin’ available, hard or soft.”

 

“One can get used to most anything,” Wesley said. “Even creature comforts.”

 

Spike smiled and nodded a good-night before heading down the stairs. Wesley poured the tea into a mug to take into Nika. She managed to hitch herself up in bed, and he couldn’t help but notice the pallor of her skin and the trembling of her hands. “Spike?”

 

“I sent him to get some sleep.”

 

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Nika said. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to go? I wouldn’t think you’d like being alone when you’re ill.”

 

Nika smiled wanly. “No,” she admitted. “But Danny never liked being around sick people, so if you don’t want to stay…”

 

“And who was it that took care of both Spike and me just recently when we’d been poisoned?” Wesley responded. “I do not mind returning the favor.” He could see a flash of disappointment in her eyes, and put a hand to her cheek under the guise of checking her temperature. In reality, Wesley had discovered he liked contact with her under any guise at all. “And I would stay even if we hadn’t been poisoned, and you hadn’t stayed with the both of us.”

 

Nika smiled at him. “You are a true gentleman, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I had thought the breed extinct.”

 

“We are usually well camouflaged.” Wesley watched as she sipped at the tea, sitting silently as she finished it. “Better?”

 

“A little,” she acknowledged. “I think it will be a while yet before I’m ready for solids though.”

 

“Then perhaps you should get some sleep,” he suggested. “I’ll stay right here.”

 

“_Nain_ used to promise that,” Nika murmured, sleep tugging at her. “She would promise to stay with me.”

 

“Well, I’m not your _nain_, but I will stay.” Wesley stroked her hair, finding that the stirring in his heart was becoming more insistent. He was falling for this woman—it was becoming more than mere attraction. Romantic entanglements never worked well for him, however. And this was a woman who had lost her husband under tragic circumstances; she could hardly be expected to fall for a demon hunter again.

 

She could hardly be expected to fall for him.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley stayed, occasionally reading, sometimes just watching her sleep. At one point, Nika began to whimper, moving restlessly in her sleep. He quickly moved to soothe her, putting a hand on her sweat-dampened brow, speaking in a low tone. “Danika, it’s just a dream. You’re quite safe.”

 

After a moment, she stilled, sighing quietly. Wesley watched her, blue eyes far away and thoughtful. “How’s she doin’?”

 

Spike stood in the doorway, the expression on his face unreadable. “Sleeping now,” Wesley replied quietly. “Hopefully, her fever will break soon.”

 

“An’ if it doesn’t?”

 

“We’ll take her to the doctor, regardless of what she might wish.”

 

Spike moved closer. “I know you probably have other things to do, but would you mind hangin’ around?” he asked. “You could run home, get a change of clothing, come back.”

 

“I don’t have anything else to do,” Wesley replied quietly. “I certainly don’t have anything _better_ to do.” He stood and stretched. “I think I will follow your suggestion, however. I could use a chance to get cleaned up.”

 

Spike nodded. “That tea…?”

 

“There’s more ready in the kitchen,” Wesley assured him. “Just put it to steep as you would any other tea.”

 

“Right then,” the vampire said, coming over to take Wesley’s spot by the bed. “See you in a bit, mate.” He watched the ex-Watcher leave and bit back a sigh of relief that Wesley seemed to know what he was doing.

 

Spike had long ago realized that Wesley was a good man to have around whatever the crisis. He could be relied upon to keep a cool head and think through things. Of course, sometimes thinking wasn’t called for, but if he let himself react, his instincts weren’t bad either. In a situation like this, Spike wasn’t sure he’d want anyone else.

 

He’d realized over the last day or two that he hated sickness, more than anything else. Most things that threatened his loved ones could be fought off one way or another. Sickness and death seemed inevitable if you were foolish enough to love a mortal, and neither could be fought with fists or fangs.

 

Spike ran a cool hand over Nika’s too-warm forehead, listening to her murmurs of appreciation, and, for the first time he could remember, regretted being immortal. For the first time, Spike felt that the future was something to fear.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley showered and changed clothes, throwing an overnight bag together as quickly as possible. He hated having to leave Nika with Spike for too long. It seemed obvious that the vampire was more frightened of her illness than of the demons and vampires they fought on a regular basis.

 

The only reason Wesley wasn’t anxious was that he knew she would recover, but he could imagine the sense of helplessness that would come if the problem weren’t so easily solved by time and plenty of liquids. The idea of Nika not being there was more painful than he would wish.

 

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Wesley headed for the door, just as he heard a knock. He opened it, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him. “Hi, Wes.”

 

“Fred.” Wesley stared at the woman standing in front of him, hardly able to believe she was there. “What—”

 

“Can I come in?” She didn’t move, and Wesley finally stood aside to let her enter. “How are you?”

 

Wesley wasn’t rude enough to ask why she wanted to know, but he was still thinking it. After running into his old gang a few months previously, Wesley had even less desire than usual to see or talk to any of them. Even Fred, whom he would once have given his right arm to see show up at his door, was not a welcome visitor these days.

 

“I’m fine,” he replied, a chill in his voice. “What brings you here?”

 

“We have a problem,” Fred replied. “Angel’s been trying to translate this prophecy one of his sources told him was important, but he can’t make it out. I thought—”

 

“You thought I would do it,” Wesley finished for her. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time I attempted a difficult translation?”

Fred’s head went back as though she’d been slapped. “Wesley, you were just doing what you thought was right.”

 

“That’s what I thought too,” he replied quietly. “Funny how no one else seemed to realize that at the time.”

 

Fred swallowed heavily, knowing what Wesley was referring to. “Wes, I’m sorry about what I said to you in the hospital. I just thought it would be better if you stayed away.”

 

“Is that right?” Wesley asked. He shook himself. Berating Fred would do him no good, and he needed to get back to Nika. “Look, Fred, I am sorry, but I don’t think I can help you. A friend is sick, and I really should get back to her.”

 

Fred blinked, surprised. The few times she’d seen Wesley since the whole Connor debacle, he’d been cold and remote, so his attitude wasn’t surprising now. What was surprising was his reason for being brusque. “Oh. Wes, this is—”

 

“Important,” he sighed. It always was. “Did you bring the text?”

 

It didn’t surprise him when Fred pulled the book out of her bag. “I told Angel I was going to take it to an expert.”

 

Wesley laughed softly, sadly. Angel would have known who Fred was going to see. It was significant that she still could not say who it was aloud. “Of course. I’ll do what I can and then give you a call.”

 

Fred looked as though she might argue for a moment, before finally nodding. “Sure. That works.”

 

They stared at each other, and Wesley unwillingly remembered the days when he was so in love with her he could hardly think straight. What had happened? He didn’t remember a moment when he woke up with the realization that he was no longer in love with Fred. Wesley hadn’t even realized that you could fall _out_ of love with someone. Virginia had been the one to break off her relationship with him, and he had eventually managed to get over his broken heart.

 

If he were honest with himself, Wesley could admit that there was a good possibility that Fred hadn’t even realized how deep his feelings for her went. And now—now his feelings for her were no more than they might be for any other person he’d known and worked with closely for a few years. His heart was with the woman whose life he’d saved, who’d made curry for him, and who had made certain that he felt welcome in her house. Nika had taken Fred’s place in his heart, and he hadn’t even been aware of it.

 

“I’ll let you know when I have something,” he assured her. “But I really have to go.”

 

“Yeah, you should be with your friend.” Fred watched as Wesley shoved the book, along with several others, on top of the clothing in his bag and zipped it back up. A sense of loss stabbed at her. She remembered when she had considered Wesley the calm, rational center of the group. He was a mystery to her now—his cold remoteness at odds with his concern for a sick friend. She had no idea who he was anymore, and she wondered if she’d ever known him.

 

“Fred—”

 

They were standing in the hallway now, and somehow Fred knew that Wesley was letting go, just as she was. What had happened had changed them in an infinite number of ways—Wesley more than anyone else. “Take care of yourself.”

 

“You too.” Wesley walked away from her, feeling the weight of the past fall away with every step. That wasn’t where he belonged any more.

 

He had his own place in the world now.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley let himself in the front door, Spike coming out of Nika’s bedroom to meet him. Ever sensitive to the people around him, the vampire gave him a sharp look. “You alright, mate?”

 

“Fine,” he replied. “Really. I just—I saw Fred. She wanted me to translate a prophecy for Angel.”

 

“Hope you told the chit where she could put it,” Spike said, anger causing his bright blue eyes to spark. “After everythin’ they’ve done—”

 

“I can look at the prophecy and watch over Nika,” Wesley said, interrupting him. “I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise. Besides, the people Angel desires to help are the people we want to help as well.”

 

“We just have a better business plan,” Spike muttered. “Right. Well, good luck on that then.”

 

“Did Nika—”

 

“Woke once an’ I gave her more of that tea. Think her fever broke ‘bout an hour ago while she was sleepin’,” Spike said. “’Course, it might come back, but she’s alright for now. Figure she might want to eat when she wakes up.”

 

“Broth would probably be best.” Wesley went into the kitchen and started going through the pantry. “It looks like she has some handy. If she’s hungry when she wakes up, we can heat it up then.”

 

Wesley pulled the volumes out of his bag and spread them out of the table, raising an eyebrow when Spike plunked himself down in the chair across from him. “Were you volunteering to help?”

Spike shook his head. “I had a question.”

 

“Okay.” Wesley waited for several moments, before speaking again. “Were you going to ask it sometime tonight?”

 

Spike shot him a hurt look. “You ever wish things had gone differently?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“’s just—” Spike sighed. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

 

“Spike, I’m sorry. What did you mean?” Wesley modulated his tone, realizing that Spike was being serious and not trying to annoy him just for the sake of it.

 

Spike frowned. “Got another letter from Dawn the other day, you know.”

 

“Usually you enjoy receiving her letters,” Wesley pointed out.

 

Spike smiled. “Still do. It just makes me wish I was there. That summer—when Buffy was gone—we were…close.”

 

“She still cares for you, Spike,” Wesley said gently. “She wouldn’t continue writing to you if she didn’t.”

 

“Know that,” Spike said impatiently. “Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have stayed though. If I did the wrong thing by runnin’ away.”

 

Wesley frowned. “Do you regret coming to L.A. then?”

 

“No,” Spike said, so quickly that Wesley knew he spoke the truth. “No. ‘ve just been missin’ the Bit, ‘s all. An’ I don’t trust myself to go to Sunnyhell.”

 

Wesley understood. He understood better than anyone, probably. “It will get easier, Spike. Eventually.”

 

“You know that for a fact?”

 

“I told you I saw Fred tonight.”

 

Blue eyes met blue, and Spike nodded his comprehension. “You got over her.”

 

“Yes, I did.” Wesley smiled.

 

Spike smiled in reply, but there was a wealth of somber wisdom in the expression. “Then there might be hope for me yet, yeah?” He pushed himself up. “Better go see how Nika’s doin’.”

 

Several hours later, Wesley was still looking over the text, a particularly tricky one that seemed to be mixing a number of ancient languages both human and demon. From Nika’s room, he could hear Spike’s low voice. Nika had woken about an hour earlier, ready for something to eat, but not feeling up to doing anything.

 

Wesley had been that sick himself, and he knew how frustrating it could be to be too ill to want to read or watch TV, and yet unable to sleep because you’d slept so much already. To his amazement, Spike had offered to read aloud to her, anything she wanted, and Nika had quickly taken him up on his offer.

 

Her request had been for _Jane Eyre_, and while Spike had cocked an eyebrow, he hadn’t raised any objections. Nika had told him he could skip the beginning, explaining that the story didn’t become truly interesting until the meeting between Jane and Mr. Rochester.

 

The normally rough North London accent had softened as he read, and Wesley could hear the hints of a more polished tone similar to his own accent. Putting down his pen, he drifted over to the bedroom door.

 

The vampire was sitting in the chair by the bed, the lamp on its lowest setting because the light hurt Nika’s eyes. She was curled up, facing Spike, and though Wesley couldn’t see her face, he knew she would wear a soft smile. “Are you going to stand there forever, or are you going to come join us?” she called, interrupting Spike’s reading.

 

Wesley blinked, and then looked back over his shoulder at the texts on the table. He would need to put some more time in, but he thought he might have a few moments to relax with his friends. “I think I could stand to take a break.” He sat down next to Nika on the bed, and tensed, then relaxed again as she scooted closer. His hand reached out of its own accord to take hers. Pretending to ignore Spike’s knowing smile, he stretched out on the bed to listen to the tale of Jane and Mr. Rochester.

 

He let out a soft sigh. With Nika in his arms, and his friend nearby, Wesley knew he had come home. For the first time in a long while, the future loomed brighter than the past.


	30. May 2006

There were three very private good-byes going on at the same time. “Will I see you later?” Spike asked quietly.

 

“Of course,” Buffy replied with a smile. “If you show up. You know you’re always welcome.”

 

“Always?” he asked with a leer.

 

She raised an eyebrow in reply. “Anything for the guy that braved the dangers of Lamaze class for me.”

 

“Dangers is right.” Spike shook his head in mock resignation. “Never thought bein’ Love’s bitch would lead me there.”

 

Buffy laughed, a real joy in her voice that hadn’t been there for a while. Spike had balked at the door to the class, looking a bit panicky. “Sorry, luv. I don’t think I can do this. You think Nika’d give private lessons?”

 

“Spike, we’re here. I’m going in, with or without you. I had hoped it would be with.” The exasperation in her tone was real. She did not want to be the only woman in there without a partner, and the vampire had promised to come. They’d even chosen a late evening class to be sure that the sun would be down so they could attend without risk of him getting singed. For Spike to back out now was uncharacteristic.

 

Spike swallowed. “Buffy, I don’t know anythin’. Are you sure someone else wouldn’t be better? Your sister, or Willow, or—”

 

“Hey, guys.” Nika walked up to them. She looked from one to the other, seeing the frantic look in Spike’s eyes and the annoyance in Buffy’s eyes. “What’s up?”

 

“Can’t we do private lessons?” Spike asked.

 

Nika laughed. “No, Spike. I don’t do private lessons. These classes are as much for support as for information. You’ll be fine. There are a lot of first time dads in there who are just as nervous as you are.”

 

Buffy elbowed him in the ribs. “There. See? You’ll fit right in.”

 

It was actually true. Buffy had noticed that Spike was dressing differently—a little more modern, a little less ‘80’s punk. The hair was still bleached, but it was curly, and it suited him. He still wore dark colors most of the time, but it wasn’t monochromatic. In fact, tonight he was wearing dark brown pants and a blue shirt, and Buffy wondered when the change had taken place. Was it his own doing, or someone else’s?

 

She remembered that he’d been changing before he’d left Sunnydale. Perhaps this was just a natural progression, and had nothing to do with her. Either way, she definitely liked it.

 

He gave her a skeptical look in reply, then shrugged, defeated. “Your wish is my command, luv.”

 

The class itself hadn’t been too bad. Spike had stuck close and tried not to look too menacing. Being around humans almost exclusively for the last three years had humanized him a great deal, however, and Spike really did appear to be just another nervous expectant father.

 

Nika did her best to normalize everything they were going through, pointing out that all of them had come a long way already. Buffy felt that was never more true for any couple than it was for her and Spike. The rest of the class she had them laughing as she shared stories from her own past birthing experiences, all the while giving them the information they needed.

 

At the end of the hour, Buffy found herself making the acquaintance of a number of other women, while Spike got caught up with the other men. Apparently, the males as a group felt they needed to band together in the face of all that estrogen. “Wow, girl!” one of the other women commented. “Is that one yours?”

 

Buffy looked over at Spike, who appeared to be enjoying himself, even as he realized that he was playing to a crowd. “Yep. All mine.”

 

“Oh, boy,” a brunette leaned in close. “What a cutie. What did you have to do to snag that one? Or is he snagged?”

 

“He’s snagged,” Buffy assured her, smiling.

 

Another woman shook her head. “Just pray your baby gets those gorgeous eyes of his.”

 

Buffy hid a wince, not wanting to explain that it was impossible for a whole host of reasons. “We’ll see. He keeps saying that he hopes she looks like me.”

 

There was a number of “awws” from the others. “Lucky girl.”

 

“I am,” Buffy agreed, then extricated herself from the crowd, heading over to join Spike. “You ready to go?”

 

“Whenever you are, luv.” He gave a quick wave to the other men. “See you next week, mates.”

 

She laughed as they left. “And to think you weren’t sure you would fit in.”

 

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “They’re nice enough blokes, all of them. Doesn’t hurt to chat a bit.”

 

“I’m glad,” Buffy insisted. “I’m glad it’s you with me.”

 

“Me too,” he replied. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

There had been a couple more classes since the first one, and Spike was more of a sponge than she was. Buffy found herself unbelievably grateful that Peter had turned out to be such an ass, because if he hadn’t been, who knows what would have happened?

 

Buffy would have liked to believe that they would have found each other again, but it was hard to say. As things stood, however, they were happy, and she was getting ready for a baby shower with no men allowed.

 

Spike, Wesley, and Connor had agreed to vacate the premises for the duration, and all three women knew they had planned something for a guys’ night out. What had been planned was still up for debate, as not a one was sharing.

 

Buffy had wondered briefly if the guys on Angel’s crew should be notified, since she had invited Cordy and Fred, but had quickly discarded the notion. If Spike or Wesley wanted to invite Gunn and Angel to their party, that was their business, not hers.

 

She glanced over at her sister and Connor, who were laughing quietly over something. Connor had gotten his acceptance letter to UCLA the day before, and they were both excited about being able to attend school together.

 

Buffy could just make out Nika warning Wesley away from anything too strenuous because of his shoulder. She was riding him pretty hard about his physical therapy, and was not keen on the idea of him reinjuring himself.

 

Spike’s kiss brought her back to the moment. “I’ll definitely be over tonight, luv,” he promised. “Just don’t know when I’ll get in. Might be later than you like.”

 

“Then you can let youself in,” she said in reply.

 

Spike frowned. “Don’t like you leaving the door unlocked for me, Buffy. I can—”

 

“Let yourself in,” Buffy repeated, holding up a key on a ring, smiling at the flabbergasted look on his face. “I thought it was about time you had a key to my place.”

 

“You sure you have to stay here?” Spike asked. “Because I can think of a number of ways to say thanks right now.”

 

She grinned in response. “Then you’ll have a very good reason not to stay out too late, won’t you?”

 

His thoughtful smile had Buffy reconsidering the baby shower herself, but then Wesley and Connor were standing in the doorway looking at her lover impatiently. “Let’s go, Spike.” Connor was raring to go, and again Buffy wondered what the guys had planned. Even Wesley seemed like he was in a hurry to get away.

 

“Later, Buffy,” he said with a quick peck on the lips, and then they were gone. Fred and Cordelia showed up just a few minutes later, and the party soon got underway.

 

They were all sitting around eating the hors d’oeuvres that Nika had made when Cordy asked, “So you know for sure that it’s a girl, right?”

 

“Pretty much,” Buffy said. “The doctor said that there was always the possibility of making a mistake, but it seems pretty clear.”

 

“Have you thought of any names yet?” Fred asked, licking her fingers delicately. “I mean, if you’ve given any thought to it.”

 

Buffy smiled ruefully. “Lots of thoughts, no decisions. I do think I want her middle name to be Joyce, after my mom, though. Other than that, I don’t have a clue.”

 

Nika gave her a thoughtful look. “Have you asked Spike what he thinks?”

 

“Not yet,” Buffy said. There was a faraway look in her eyes that the other women knew well. “We just haven’t gotten around to talking about it yet.”

 

Dawn laughed. “That reminds me. Presents!”

 

“Spike reminds you of presents?”

 

Dawn shrugged off Buffy’s question as though it didn’t matter. “Well, this might be mostly a baby shower, but it’s also a ‘hooray that you and Spike finally worked things out’ party too.”

 

Buffy flushed slightly. “Have we been driving you guys crazy?”

 

“What, with all the drama?” Dawn teased. “Of course not. It’s not like the drama’s a surprise with either one of you guys.”

 

Buffy looked like she was going to make some reply, but the other women present started pulling out brightly wrapped packages. “Well, this is from both Angel and me,” Cordelia said, handing the Slayer a large box. “Also, he said to let you know that you can have the bassinet and all of that if you want. We still have Connor’s baby stuff in storage, and neither one of us is likely to need it any time soon.”

 

She nodded at her old rival (and friend) gratefully. “Thanks, Cordy. I really appreciate that.”

 

“Oh, and Angel also said to tell you that he thought he might take you up on that offer you made him. He said you would know what he was talking about.” Cordelia sounded puzzled, but Buffy laughed, knowing that Angel had just had Cordelia agree to a double date with Spike. She had a feeling that it could be either disastrous or wonderful.

 

“We’ll see,” Buffy said, without explanation. She pulled off the bow and the paper, finding about a half-dozen little outfits in various shades of pink and purple inside. “Oh, this is great!” she exclamined. “Thanks, Cordy. These are gorgeous.”

 

Cordelia shrugged. “Well, duh. This is me you’re talking to, and Angel actually has great taste in clothing.”

 

Buffy smiled. “Then I’m glad you both went shopping. I appreciate it.”

 

Next, Buffy opened Fred and Gunn’s gift, which was a box full of various baby necessities: diapers, nipples and bottles, bibs, wipes. “This is really great,” Buffy said sincerely. “I know all of it will come in handy.”

 

She was actually doing fairly well financially. The house had sold at a good profit, which left her with a comfortable margin. Plus, the Council’s pension was almost enough to cover the bare essentials, and her father had sent a nice hefty check. While she wasn’t sure what to think of that, Buffy wasn’t about to send it back. As Dawn had pointed out, he did owe her. He owed both his children for abandoning them. So, if he wanted to send her money to buy her off, Buffy was going to let him.

 

Of course, none of that meant she was at all averse to accepting any and all offers of assistance. Babies were expensive.

 

Dawn handed her an envelope. “Okay, so this is my present, and Connor promised he’d help too, but he doesn’t have as much experience as I do. Actually, he doesn’t have any experience.”

 

Frowning at her sister in confusion, she opened the envelope, finding a stack of “coupons,” each neatly lettered saying, “Good for one evening out sans kid. Free babysitting included.” Buffy laughed. “Thank you, Dawnie. This is great.”

 

“Well, as long as you show the proper appreciation, I think I could be persuaded to babysit pretty much whenever,” Dawn replied. “Besides, you and Spike are going to need some time to yourselves.”

 

“My gift,” Nika said, handing her another envelope. “Actually, it’s from both Wesley and me.”

 

Buffy opened the envelope and stared at its contents. “I don’t—I can’t accept this.”

 

“Of course you can,” Nika replied. “As you can see, it’s for anytime within the next year. Both of us have experience taking care of babies, and it will be our pleasure.”

 

Buffy stared at the slips. Four nights had been paid for at a bed and breakfast up in the Sierra Mountains, good for a getaway just for the Slayer and her vampire boyfriend. Nika smiled at her. “Dawn and I were talking, and we know that you and Spike still need time to get to know each other, but that becomes difficult when there’s a baby involved. We each wanted to do something for you that would help in that area.”

 

“This—this is great, really,” Buffy said quietly. “I can’t tell you the last time I had a real vacation.”

 

“Which is why Wesley and I decided it was exactly what you needed,” Nika replied. “And we’ll handle the babysitting for the duration.”

 

Whateve else might have been said was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Nika got up to answer it, and Willow appeared after a few moments. “Sorry I’m late!” she apologized. “Traffic was crazy.”

 

Willow’s gift was in two parts. The first included a number of very cute baby clothes, though she stayed away from the traditional pink and purple and instead stuck to turquoise and yellow. The second part were garments that were more typically found at a bridal shower, not a baby shower. “Actually, that’s probably more for Spike than for you,” Willow said as the other women giggled and Buffy blushed. “On the other hand, from what you’ve said in the past, he’ll make it worthwhile for you.”

 

Buffy held the garments up to her—by now—very pregnant belly. “It’s going to be a while before I can wear these,” she said ruefully.

 

Willow grinned. “Keep unwrapping.”

 

Giving her old friend a strange look, she did so, coming across another set of sexy lingerie. This time, however, they were made specifically for pregnant women. Willow laughed as she watched the wheels in Buffy’s head turn. “I’d say take advantage of your hormones while you can, Buf.”

 

Buffy laughed again. “Well, I’ll appreciate all of it, and I know Spike will too. You _are_ staying at my place tonight, aren’t you? I mean, I didn’t even know you were coming.”

 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Cordelia explained, a smug note in her voice. “And if you’re going to be busy with Spike, maybe Willow should stay at the hotel.”

 

Buffy looked thoughtful. “I don’t even know what the guys are up to. Spike said he might be back in kind of late.”

 

Willow shrugged. “Either way, Buffy. I really don’t mind.”

 

“Then you can stay at my place,” Buffy replied decisively. “Who knows what the guys are going to be doing?”

 

~~~~~

 

The guys were busy enjoying themselves at one of Wesley’s favorite establishments. All three of them were doing their best to out-throw each other in a game of darts as they drank pints of beer with hot wings for chasers. In some ways, the three of them were enjoying the freedom that came pre-kids and pre-marriage. While the baby wasn’t technically Spike’s, he was going to be intimately involved, which certainly promised to change things.

 

Connor and Wesley both were also becoming more settled with their respective significant others, and Connor was going to be starting at the university in a few short months. Change was inevitable, of course, and these particular changes were exciting ones for all involved, but there was a certain nostalgia that surrounded the three of them.

 

“Been a while since we’ve been able to do this,” Spike commented to Wesley as they watched Connor have his turn. The boy was good, placing all but one in the high scoring areas.

 

“I suppose it has been,” Wesley agreed. “Circumstances may change, but this won’t.”

 

Spike nodded, knowing what the other man was talking about. The bonds between them went deeper than blood; there was nothing that could change that. “No, that’s for certain.”

 

Wesley grabbed the darts, taking his turn. “Spike?” Connor asked.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks for inviting me.”

 

“You’re family, lad,” Spike replied. “Much as I hate to admit it, Angel an’ me are related.”

 

Connor nodded, watching as Wesley hit the bull’s eye twice and sent the third dart just to the right of the red circle. “You know, I never used to think family was all that important. It was just me and my father—Holtz, you know?—for a long time. It’s different here.”

 

Spike nodded, knowing what he was saying. It had been just he and Dru for a century, and then he and Buffy had been caught up in their own little world. It helped to have others that you could rely on, people that would stick with you, even through the worst of times.

 

He could honestly say that even if the worst were to happen and he lost Buffy, he would have good reasons to go on with his unlife. It would hurt, but Buffy wasn’t his entire world any longer. It was that truth which had really freed him to take a chance on the Slayer again, knowing that he would survive her leaving.

 

“’s important,” Spike agreed. “You can’t make one person your world, Connor, no matter how much you might want to. I learned that the hard way.” The vampire gave Wesley a knowing look and then took the darts that were offered to him. With a practiced flick of his wrist, Spike sent all three darts flying, each landing with a solid thunk in a high-scoring box. “What say we get out of here?”

 

“My place?” Wesley suggested. “I believe there might be a football game on.”

 

~~~~~

 

Fred and Cordelia had left once all the gossip had been disseminated. Now that Buffy had finally come to accept that her relationship with Angel was over, she found his girlfriend much easier to put up with. She didn’t think they would ever be fast friends—their personalities were just too strong—but they could be civil and enjoy each other’s company in small doses.

 

Dawn was curled up on the couch next to Willow, talking quietly to the witch about something, and Buffy was watching as Nika put things away. As it was her party, she wasn’t being allowed to help. “That really was a great gift,” Buffy said again. “I never expected—”

 

Nika smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. I have a feeling that there will be quite a few people around to spoil your daughter, but sometimes the mother needs a little pampering as well.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Buffy replied, her hand over her rather noticeable stomach. “It’s good to know that both of us can count on you guys. It’s—different.”

 

Coming over to sit across from her at the table, Nika’s raised eyebrow asked the silent question. “It’s like having—family, not just friends, you know? I’ve always been the oldest…” Buffy trailed off and chuckled. “Well, all I can remember is being the oldest, but I guess I was an only child too. Without my mom here, though, and Dad being no help at all, it felt like I was going to have to do this whole thing on my own.”

 

“But you know that isn’t true, don’t you?” Nika asked gently. “I believe I speak for Wesley as well when I say that you are welcome to call on us whenever you need help. I do know a bit more about babies than just birthing them, and Wesley had experience with Connor.”

 

“I know that,” Buffy replied quickly. “Actually, that’s what’s so great. I don’t feel like I’m alone in this. And with Spike…”

 

Nika could see the emotion in the other woman’s eyes. “You feel as though you have finally found your place?” she suggested. “We all stand alone, Buffy. You know this. Yet we all need the comfort of others; I think you know this too. It’s a great paradox.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. When I first found out I was pregnant, and with Peter’s reaction, all I could think about was the fact that I was alone. I wanted my mom so badly, but the first person who came into mind was Spike. I wanted him just as much.”

 

“Remember that,” Nika advised. “Remember the feeling of wanting him so badly your heart ached, because you will fight again. You’ll say things to regret, as will he. If you remember why it was you wanted him in the first place though, it will be easier to forgive and to say you’re sorry.”

 

Buffy thought about the constant dull ache that had been her constant companion, how she had written it off as anything but missing the vampire. She remembered the sense of being torn in two, knowing that their relationship could end over a stupid fight and an impulsive action. It was going to be difficult, she knew. As she’d told him, no one could make her quite as miserable as Spike, say the things that stung quite as badly. Maybe the worst was over, but there was plenty of room for mistakes in the future; it would be exceptionally easy to fall into their old patterns.

 

Then she remembered the light in his eyes when she had asked him to go to Lamaze class with her, when she’d asked him to stay—forever. Things between them could be so good, and this time she would embrace all the possibilities.

 

~~~~~

 

“I’d better call Angel an’ let him know his kid’s here,” Spike said quietly. Connor was stretched out on the couch, snoring lightly. The boy might have had a vampire’s constitution, but too much beer had put him out like a light, and he was in no shape to be driving home.

 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain you don’t want me to call?”

 

Spike shrugged. “No, we’re good. Peaches knows ‘m with the Slayer an’ that I’m not completely evil anymore.”

 

“He also knows you’ll take care of his son,” Wesley added.

 

Spike shifted uncomfortably. “He’s a good kid, even if he is spendin’ the night with the Niblet occasionally.”

 

“How did you find that out?” Wesley asked, thinking the vampire had been snooping unnecessarily.

 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Called her dorm one mornin’ an’ Hell-Boy over there answered. Wasn’t too hard to figure out. I told him I didn’t want to know, but if she ever came to me cryin’ over him, I wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences.”

 

Wesley chuckled. “I think that goes for both of us. I’m quite fond of Dawn myself.”

 

“She grows on you,” Spike agreed. “Always thought she had spunk.”

 

“That she does.” Wesley watched as Spike dialed Angel’s number, apparently getting the vampire right away.

 

“It’s me, Peaches,” Spike said, grinning at Wesley as the older vampire said something derogatory. “Oh, stuff it. Just thought I’d let you know Connor’s sleepin’ on Wesley’s couch tonight, safe an’ sound.” Spike shrugged, even though Angel couldn’t see it and replied, “If you like.”

 

Wesley took the phone Spike offered. “Angel?”

 

Angel sounded concerned on the other end. “Is Connor okay?”

 

“He’s fine,” Wesley quickly reassured him. “We were just watching some TV, and he had a couple of beers. Nothing to be concerned about.”

 

“You got my son drunk?”

 

Wesley didn’t roll his eyes, even though he thought about it. “No, Angel. Connor had approximately four beers and dropped off on my couch. He’s not drunk, but it’s probably not safe for him to drive. We thought we’d let you know so you didn’t worry.”

 

“Oh.” Wesley heard him sigh. “Sorry, Wes. I just—”

 

“Connor is a friend, Angel,” Wesley said quietly. He didn’t add that he took care of his friends, as he wasn’t certain that the vampire would agree with that assessment.

 

“I know you’ll take care of him,” Angel quickly replied. “It’s just—hard to let go sometimes. Look, come by the hotel sometime, will you? It’d be nice to catch up.”

 

Wesley wasn’t so sure how nice it would be, but he didn’t care to argue. “Sure, Angel. Soon.” He hung up the phone and looked over at Spike, an idea taking shape. “You want to go over to Angel’s with me?”

 

Spike met the other man’s eyes, and then laughed. “So I can needle him?”

 

“Actually, I’d rather like to hear the story of why you call him Peaches.”

 

Spike’s broad grin was all the answer Wesley needed. He and Angel might have decided to be friends, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get some of his own back.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike let himself into Buffy’s townhome as silently as possible. He immediately sensed the presence of another heartbeat, and quickly recognized it as Red’s by the scent. Hesitating briefly by the stairs, Spike momentarily thought about going back to his place. He wasn’t sure he wanted to face the witch’s knowing looks in the morning. On the other hand, now that Buffy was actually enjoying his presence, Spike hated to sleep alone. It was always nicer to wake up with the Slayer wrapped tightly around him.

 

Letting himself into her bedroom, he quickly undressed, putting the bag with his own baby shower present down by the door. Well, it wasn’t actually a gift for a baby. It was more for Buffy. He just hoped she understood it.

 

Spike was just about ready to slip under the covers when the bedside lamp was flipped on, and Buffy sat up to watch him. “Hey there.”

 

“Hey, luv,” he replied, feeling strangely awkward. Spike had thought she was asleep, and suddenly being confronted by an alert Buffy startled him. “Thought you were sleepin’.”

 

“I was dozing,” she replied. “But I was actually kinda waiting for you.” Buffy’s sharp eyes lit on the bag. “Whatcha got?”

 

Spike smiled slightly. “Well, it was your present. Thought I was goin’ to wait till tomorrow to give it to you.”

 

Buffy was now very awake. “We don’t have to wait.”

 

Feeling slightly sheepish, Spike grabbed the bag and went over to the bed, handing it over and sliding under the covers. He watched intently as Buffy snapped the string holding it shut and then pulled out his old duster. “This is supposed to be one of those gifts that’s really heavy with the symbolism, huh?”

 

“Somethin’ like that,” Spike said.

 

“You gave the coat to Dawn, though.”

 

“I loaned it to her,” he corrected gently. “When I left, I gave it to her with the understandin’ that I’d be back for it. Was like a promise she could touch, yeah?”

 

Buffy worked the leather with her fingers. “So she gave it back.”

 

“I asked for it,” Spike admitted. “Didn’t want to take it when she offered it to me back a few months ago. It smelled like you, like your house. I couldn’t—” He stopped. “I don’t know if you knew it, but I took that coat off the second Slayer I killed.”

 

Buffy hadn’t quite realized, and she wondered what it said about her that it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it probably should have. “I didn’t.”

 

“’m not sorry for my past, luv,” Spike said softly. “There are some things you need a soul for, I guess, an’ maybe that’s one of them. Both the Slayers I faced, I faced ‘em fairly, an’ it could have gone either way, easy. They both left me somethin’—the scar, the coat.”

 

Buffy watched as he touched the scar over his eyebrow and then the leather almost reverently. “I left the coat with Dawn so she knew I was comin’ for it, that I wouldn’t forget her. ‘m givin’ it to you now for the same reason—‘cept I won’t be goin’ anywhere. It’s—I guess it’s tellin’ you I won’t leave, but that there’s a part of myself ‘m givin’ up—for you, and for other reasons that are for me. It’s—”

 

“A symbol,” Buffy said quietly, petting the supple fabric. It was old and worn and scarred, and even though it had been in her sister’s possession for years now, Buffy fancied she could still smell Spike’s unique scent. Even though he hadn’t said it, the Slayer also knew that Spike was saying that he’d outgrown the old image he’d projected. He had changed.

 

So had she.

 

“I wish I had something to give you that was just as meaningful,” Buffy admitted. “I don’t know if you’ll even want the only thing I have to offer. Which, ironically enough, is my firstborn. I feel selfish for it, though, because I know it’ll be more work than anything else. I’m asking too much of you, but—”

 

Spike’s hand on her belly stopped her words mid-flow. “Luv, it’s another Summers girl. What else could I do but love her? Even if you hadn’t asked, it still would have been true.”

 

Buffy let out a shaky laugh. “You’re always doing that,” she protested. “You say the sweetest things, and then I don’t have a clue as to how to reply.”

 

“Just—tell me I’m yours, Buffy, an’ I’ll believe it,” Spike said. “Figure it’s poetic justice that I’d end up belongin’ to a Slayer.”

 

“No, Spike,” Buffy replied. “I won’t say you’re mine.” At the look on his face, she hastened on. “But I’ll say that I’m yours.”

 

It was a surrender of the deepest sort, and it meant more to Spike than all the flowery speeches in the world. Her words, set so closely on the heels of her near-offer of blood, were close to the equivalent of a marriage proposal. They were a negative echo of that alley where she’d told him she would never be “his girl.”

 

Where once Buffy would have denied all his claims, now she eagerly accepted them.

 

“Oh.” Spike stared at her, his heart in his eyes. “That’s—”

 

He was silenced by Buffy’s lips, by her hands, telling him what she had no words for. They were learning a different dance, she seemed to be telling him. They were learning a new way of being, a new way of knowing each other. With the joining of their bodies, they celebrated a joining of their futures.

 

And the future seemed bright indeed.

**Epilogue**

 

“You’re almost there, Buffy,” Nika said, her tone encouraging. “I can see the head.”

 

Spike winced as the Slayer’s hand tightened around his again as another contraction hit. She had been remarkably calm throughout the entire ordeal, her only reaction to the pain to squeeze his hand harder.

 

It was a very good thing he was a vampire. Otherwise, she would have ground his bones to dust.

 

“Don’t push,” Nika commanded. “Just another minute.” Spike watched Nika’s movements with concern. So far, everything had gone according to plan, but he was half-afraid a complication would come up and snatch away everything he’d gained over the last few months. “Spike, I need you.”

 

Spike gently extricated his fingers from the Slayer’s grip and moved to the foot of the birthing table. He watched in awe as he realized that what he was seeing was the crown of a head. Nika’s hands were sure and steady as she guided the small body out into the world, and they were soon rewarded by the cry of a newborn.

 

Following the directions that had been drilled into him in the classes, Spike took the blanket from the nurse who was standing close by. Nika placed the infant into his hands, and Spike knew he was holding life. He looked over at Buffy, who was staring at the image he made, wide-eyed in spite of her exhaustion. “She’s perfect.”

 

Buffy gave a tearful little laugh in response, and Spike held the wriggling body as Nika tied off the umbilical cord. “You want to do the honors, Daddy?” Nika asked, holding up the clippers.

 

“I’m not—” Spike protested feebly, staring at the tiny girl.

 

“You are,” Buffy insisted. “You and no one else.”

 

Spike nodded, seeming to come to the same conclusion for the first time. He cut the umbilical cord, then—with a brief, longing glance at Buffy—followed the nurse as she whisked the girl out of the way to clean her up. Hovering on the edges, he watched anxiously as Apgar scores were taken, blood was taken, injections given.

 

Continually glancing back over at Buffy, Spike kept a close eye on the infant. His Slayer was in Nika’s capable hands; he knew nothing about the nurses that had shown up to help with the delivery. This might be one of the premier birthing centers in the world, but he was in charge of taking care of his girls.

 

Finally, it seemed they were done with the newest Summers, and she was placed securely into Buffy’s arms. Nika smiled at the picture they made; Buffy might have been any other new mother, staring down at her child with adoration. Spike might have been any other new father, looking at both of them with an awe bordering on worship. “I’ll leave you all to get acquainted,” she said softly. “Spike—” she waited until he’d met her eyes. “We’ll be out in the hall. Come get us when you’re ready.”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley was talking with Nika in a low voice outside the birthing room. Connor and Dawn had both gone off to get something to eat after they’d heard Buffy and the baby were both okay. “She did great,” his fiancée told him. “You’re never sure if they’re going to scream threats at the man, telling him he’s never getting sex, or just deal with the pain. And Spike was wonderful. You’d never know he hadn’t done this before. I’ve never seen him more calm and in control.”

 

“Well, to be fair, Buffy could hardly threaten Spike,” Wesley pointed out. “It wasn’t his fault, after all.”

 

“That doesn’t always matter,” Nika replied with a smile. There was a light in her eyes that Wesley recognized.

 

“Soon,” he promised softly. “Only a few months and we’ll be married. It isn’t so far away.”

 

“No,” Nika agreed. “And you live up to your promises.”

 

“I try.” Wesley looked up as Spike slipped out the door, a pink bundle in his arms.

 

He gave them both a weary smile. “Buffy’s sleepin’,” he said in explanation. “Just thought you lot would want a peek.”

 

Wesley stood quickly, watching as Nika accepted the now-sleeping infant. “She’s beautiful, Spike. Does she have a name yet?”

 

“Yeah,” Spike replied. “Wesley, Nika, meet your goddaughter, Margaret Joyce Summers. ‘s kind of a big name for a such a little bit, but her mum says we can shorten it up some when her personality starts showin’ through.”

 

“It’s a beautiful name,” Nika said, watching as Wesley reached out a tentative finger to stroke a ruddy cheek.

 

Wesley nodded. “I assume her middle name is for Buffy’s mother.”

 

“Yeah. Buffy said the first name was for me.” Both Wesley and Nika got the impression that if the vampire could have blushed, he would have. “Margaret was a family name, an’ we both like some of the ways you could shorten it.”

 

“It’s perfect,” Wesley replied sincerely, looking startled, then reverent, as Nika handed Margaret Joyce over to him.

 

He only had her for a moment before Dawn appeared, asking for a moment with her niece, and then Connor awkwardly held her, Spike watching him like a hawk. After everyone had their turn, Spike took Margaret back. “I should stay with Buffy,” he said quietly. “See you all later?”

 

“Much later,” Dawn agreed. “I’m beat.” She gave Spike a kiss on the cheek, and then left, Connor’s arm draped loosely over her shoulders.

 

“We should be going as well,” Nika said softly. She stopped for another moment to look down at her new goddaughter. “We’ll see you later today.”

 

“Tomorrow,” Wesley corrected with a smile, looking at his watch. “I think we’ll be sleeping for more than a couple hours.”

 

Spike nodded, watching them leave, feeling a sense of relief knowing that he and Buffy weren’t in this alone. He felt as though he was out of his depth—he was drowning all over again. He looked down at the girl, who was staring at him with wide eyes that were a bright shade of blue. Spike knew that babies’ eyes often started out blue and then changed later, but he was thankful they weren’t as dark as he remembered Peter’s being.

 

“Hello, li’l one,” he murmured. “Guess I’m the one that’s goin’ to be lookin’ after you for a while. Your mum will be there too, of course, but you’re a Summers, so that means you’re my girl, till the end of the world.”

 

Spike went back into the room to find Buffy waking up. “Spike? Is—”

 

“Right here, luv,” he said quickly, passing the baby back to Buffy. “Just introducin’ her to the rest of the family.”

 

Buffy smiled. “I’m glad it’s you here, Spike. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

 

“That right?” Spike ran a fond hand down Buffy’s bright hair. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, so I guess it works out for the both of us, then.”

 

He settled himself on the bed next to her, watching as she managed to start little Margaret breast-feeding. Nika had gone over the basics with her several times, and Buffy seemed to take to it like a pro. “When are you going to move in with us?”

 

Spike hesitated. “’m already there all the time, Buffy.”

 

She looked up at him, her face serene. “But when are you going to realize I want you there permanently?”

 

“I already know,” he assured her. “’s just… After the wedding? Nika and Wesley’ll want their space. Figure that’ll give all of us enough time.”

 

Buffy nodded, a shadow crossing her face as she remembered that Spike had very good reasons for wanting to keep his own little hideaway, just in case. “Whatever time you need.”

 

Sensing her mood, Spike laid a hand over hers where it was supporting Margaret. “I know where I belong, Buffy.” His fingers tightened over hers in a tender assurance. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

 

Till the end of the world.


End file.
